


Chasing the Stars

by flight_feather



Series: Shadows of Kadara [4]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Bondage, Character Study, Clubbing, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Drunk Dancing, F/M, Light BDSM, Love, Love Confessions, Outdoor Sex, Prompt Fic, Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-16 08:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_feather/pseuds/flight_feather
Summary: An actual collection of one-shots, for the same Ryder and Reyes inLooking for TroubleandWhiskey and Secrets.





	1. Dance All Night

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is my submission for Inarichan's prompt in the Reyder FB group. This one's for her!
> 
> Timeline for the first chapter: Immediately after [Looking for Trouble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10904271).

Ryder’s omnitool pinged, and she sighed, not wanting this romantic moment with Reyes to end. It was probably her team. She had invited them all to Tartarus to celebrate though, and Kian had opened the bar for the evening, free drinks all around, so she supposed she ought to make an appearance downstairs. 

“Your crew?” Reyes asked, still guiding her through the steps. “Probably,” she murmured, not lifting her head from his shoulder. “I did invite them, and it’s probably after nightfall by now.”

He swayed her a few more steps before pressing his lips to the top of her head and releasing her. “Go on,” he encouraged. “I have a few things to arrange in order to ensure a smooth transfer of power. We can continue our _private_ celebrations later.” His wink left no doubt in her mind what he meant. She smirked and darted in for a solid kiss before walking backwards toward the door, not willing to look away until she had to. 

The last few weeks had been a roller coaster, her intent to fuck the smuggler and leave him in the Tempest’s engine flare becoming increasingly difficult to stick to as they spent more time together. By the time she’d accidentally discovered he was the mysterious Charlatan - and had been hiding it from her while using her in his plans - she was head over heels and in too deep to push him away. She’d still nearly killed him for the deception, but he’d wrestled her to the ground, physically forcing her to submit to him until her rage and hurt had cleared. To her surprise, it had been incredibly sexy. 

He watched her back away with hunger in his gaze as it traveled over her body. If there was ever a man who could fuck with his eyes, it was Reyes Vidal. She turned when the door hissed open behind her, putting an extra swing in her step for his benefit. It shut on his low _mmmmm_ of approval, and she headed downstairs to the bar. 

The Tempest crew was all there, save Kallo and Cora. Kallo rarely left the ship, preferring to look after it to anything else, and Cora couldn’t stand Kadara, preferring to stay aboard for defense if needed and practice asari meditation techniques. A cheer rose at her appearance, and she threw her hands up in the air, absorbing the energy of the place as it washed over her. 

“Who’s ready to get shitfaced?” she shouted to another rousing cheer as she approached the bar. “Let’s have a round of shots, please, Kian. Whatever’s strongest.”

With a smirk, Kian dipped under the bar and came up with an unmarked bottle. The aroma of pure alcohol nearly knocked Ryder over when he opened it. “You asked for it,” the bartender said. 

It was _bad_. Homebrewed, most likely, harsh and burning and so strong it hit everyone but Drack like a krogan headbump. The old man went straight back to requisition the rest of the bottle for himself, while the rest of them ordered a table full of various drinks. 

Three whiskeys later, Ryder was starting to feel good, loose. She’d ordered SAM to stop managing her blood alcohol level when she realized she wasn’t even tipsy, and it was finally starting to hit her. She downed a fourth and fifth drink in immediate succession to whoops from a drunk Peebee. The asari was out on the floor, jacket off and dancing in her bra, fitting right in with the rest of the crowd. That suddenly seemed like a great idea. It was hot in the club, the temperature rising as more bodies packed in to celebrate the Charlatan’s victory and take advantage of a night of free booze. She’d already taken off her jacket and scarf as it got warmer. Her shirt joined the pile in their booth as she stepped out onto the floor to wolf whistles and applause. 

Lights strobed and swirled over the dance floor, the alternating flashes of light and darkness making it impossible to see faces in any detail. The music pounded through her until she couldn’t tell whether it was her blood or the beat driving her. Despite her intoxication she felt the strength of her body, the grace of her movements. Knew instinctively the power she would hold over everyone in the room the moment she put it into motion. So she did, letting the throb of the bass and the wild urgency of the melody guide her into movements that were by turn fluid and locked, showing off the control she had over every muscle. 

The bar roared its approval. Sweat dripped down her body as she changed her dance to become more sexual, dropping abruptly to her knees and flat on her back, pumping her chest into the air before sinuously winding forward and popping back to her feet, ass up, head down. She pulled herself up vertebrae by vertebrae, painfully slow, caressing her body all the way up. As she reached the top, she looked up - and saw him. Reyes, leaning against the balustrade, a tumbler of whiskey in hand and sex in his golden eyes. She winked at him before spinning, hips swaying, arching backward to look at him again, one hand grasping a breast, the other her own throat. 

As she snapped upright again she caught the movement of him turning to the stairs. She spun back round, determined to keep him in view, and watched him stalk down towards her. The aura of power around him seemed palpable, predatory even, with people clearing out of his path as he neared her. Ryder tossed her head at him in challenge as he looked her up and down. No-one else had had the courage to approach. 

He did more than approach. In a flash his hands shot out, taking her hip and the back of the neck, and pulled her to him. “You’re trouble, Ryder,” he growled into her ear. 

“Yes...and I’m all yours,” she snarled back, turning against him so that his hands fell at her belly and throat, and started grinding against him. Reyes didn’t miss a beat, the hand at her throat tightening enough to present a challenge but not enough to stop the movement of her hips against him. She arched up into the hand that skimmed up her belly to explore a breast, the highest point of her arc always where the palm of his hand was. The watching crowd whooped and hollered, the noise rising further as his hand dropped back to the crease of her hips and the one at her throat shifted to the back of her neck. With a push and a tug and she was bent over before him, the roll of her hips unceasing as his own began to move against her ass. 

Ryder gasped as lust flooded her, felt the blood rush to her lower lips until they swelled and the dampness of sweat was joined by the wetness of her pussy. She wanted to fuck him, _now_ , and looked back at him over her shoulder. He read the want in her, pulling her back up and spinning her to face him, gripping her jaw roughly to stop her kiss a finger away from his mouth even as his other hand dipped between her legs. With a moan she hooked one leg around his hip and rounded backward, digging her crotch into his grip as his nails dragged down her throat and chest, dipping into her bra to tweak a nipple. She popped back up, snarling at his audacity.

His eyes were molten gold, dark with desire and completely unapologetic. They moved against each other, their dance both a complement to the other and a challenge. He guided her while leaving her enough freedom to fly on her own; she submitted to him while fiercely maintaining her own independence. Distantly she realized that space had grown around them, that the roar of the watching crowd threatened to drown out everything but the thump of the bass. It didn’t matter. Alcohol and lust burned in her blood, lighting her on fire and driving her to greater heights. Reyes, the heat of his body, the dominance in his movements, and the endlessly driving pace of the music were her world. There was no escape, only the hunger in his gaze and the inferno sparked by his hands on her skin. 

Unexpectedly he spun her and pulled, breaking them free of the circle of watchers amidst groans of disappointment. They were quickly forgotten as the music played on and a new couple took their place, trying and failing to match the previous display. 

It was all lost on Ryder, the sudden stillness overwhelming. He had her pinned against the wall, nearly all of his body pressed into hers. She could feel the hard promise of his erection against her thigh and moved just enough to rub against it, pulling a groan from him. Their lips were a breath away from each other, and he growled in frustration as he stepped back. “Meet me upstairs in ten minutes,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. She gasped when he disappeared, slipping through the dancers with barely a ripple, his presence as unnoticeable now as it had been dominating earlier. 

Vetra stepped into view, the tall turian peering down at her. “All good, Ryder? That was a hell of a show.” 

“I need to fuck that man,” Ryder announced, completely oblivious to Vetra’s sigh. 

“Is that a good idea just now?” her friend asked. Ryder nodded enthusiastically and answered with a fervent yes. 

“Spirits,” Vetra swore. “Upstairs?”

Ryder nodded again. Vetra’s mandibles twitched. “Fine. I’ll cover for you since I have a feeling that you’re going to do this the stupid way and get yourself caught otherwise.” Ryder threw her arms around Vetra’s cowl. “Best. Friend. EVER!” she crowed. 

“Let’s go, come on. We’ll chat upstairs for a bit.” Vetra snagged Peebee on the way up and dragged her along. 

They were strategically placed outside Tartarus’ private room, Peebee enthusiastically and flirtatiously drawing the attention of any interested parties, when Reyes breezed past. Ryder slipped in behind him, and the doors whisked shut. 

Reyes rounded on her. “Come here,” he growled, grabbing her as he had when he first joined her on the dance floor, at the hip and back of the neck. This time he kissed her, his tongue diving into her mouth as she opened hers to welcome it. His next movements also mirrored their dance, as he pulled her to the couch, spun her round, and bent her over. She grasped the back of it, panting in anticipation. He dragged her trousers down, then, in a whisper of fabric, his own. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she prayed aloud, breathlessly, rewarded when he plunged straight into her. She was so wet that he slid straight into her core, so aroused that she nearly came right then. After a few more rough thrusts she climaxed, screaming his name, but he didn’t stop. 

A hand between her shoulderblades roughly forced her down into a sharper angle and she moaned at the feeling of him filling her even more. She didn’t let go of her grip on the back of the couch, using it for leverage to push back and meet him thrust for thrust. Both of them grunted and gasped at the force of impact, and the hand at her hips reached in front of her to stimulate her clit. It was almost too much, her knees nearly buckling before she locked them, and she screamed his name again as she clenched around him. A second orgasm rolled over her, more intense than the first, and she heard him growl her name as he made his final movements against her and released, his hips flush against her entrance.

Ryder stayed up long enough for him to finish and pull out before collapsing to her knees, completely spent. He stroked her hair, and she sat up enough to lean back into his thigh, looking up at him. His face was in shadow, but she could feel the weight of his gaze. On the downstroke, his hand came under her jaw to tip her head up. “Dance however you like, wherever you like, as much as you like. Just remember that you’re mine.” She shuddered. After this, she could never forget.


	2. Business and Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes always puts business before pleasure. Ryder learns the hard way. Set during her extended visit in chapter 12 (Lovers) in Whiskey and Secrets.
> 
> NSFW: bondage smut.
> 
> My submission for Day 2 of Reyes Appreciation Week 2017. Prompt: Business or Pleasure? Write about Reyes doing some business or having a good time.

Ryder had always liked Keema, but it was only since the latter had given Reyes the apartment in headquarters that they'd actually spent any meaningful amount of time together. Which was good for Reyes, because he had a lot of work to do and Ryder was in an extra flirtatious mood this evening. He'd finally thrown her out and told her not to come back until she'd had a thorough lesson in the history of Kadara Port from the angaran woman. 

It would serve them both right. Ryder would be suitably punished by Keema’s verbose and detailed lecturing on the topic and stop distracting him with dancing around the apartment in her panties, and Keema would discover the joys of Ryder's infinite curiosity and limited attention span. He loved the Pathfinder with all his heart, but the Collective’s expansion on Elaaden was at a delicate point and he needed to direct his attentions there.

He was nearly finished with the last report when he heard singing and skipping footsteps coming down the corridor. Shit. Ryder only sang when she’d had a few drinks. What the hell had happened in their history lesson? Keema had bored him to tears when he'd casually asked about it once. With a groan, he scrubbed a hand over his face. He had one last report to finish. Just one.

The door chirped acceptance of a code and wooshed open to reveal a slightly drunk Pathfinder. She must have ordered SAM to stop managing her blood alcohol content, since she was here on leave for a couple more days. “Reyes!” she shouted, clearly delighted to see him.

“ _Mi amor_...I wasn't expecting you back so soon,” he said carefully. 

She bounded into the room, the door automatically sliding shut and locking behind her. “Keema is the best history teacher ever. She said the best way to learn the history of the port is through its liquors. I wasn't sure about that because it's not how I learned about the Protheans, but I like it! Oh, and she said to tell you, ‘Nice try, have fun.’ What did she mean?”

 _She played me_ , he thought, more admiration than annoyance in it. “Nothing,” he sighed, suddenly doubting that this work would get done unless drastic measures were taken.

Ryder went to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water in quick succession. “SAM, clear the alcohol, please,” she asked the AI, striding into the bathroom. _That's cheating_ , Reyes thought with a little jealousy and more relief. She was usually better behaved sober. Usually. He turned back to the report. Things were going well on Elaaden, but a few key decisions were needed.

He sighed again as she exited the bathroom and started stripping, clothes falling into a messy trail as she approached him. Normally he enjoyed her habit of wearing as little as possible when she could get away with it, but not when he had work to do. She was just so...tempting. Her freedom and confidence with her body made him all the more attracted to her, and he felt a stirring in his groin at this latest example, taking in her smooth, tawny skin, long limbs, perky breasts, and lacy black panties.

“Ryder, please,” he said, already reduced to begging as the little hop she made to step out of her trousers made her tits jiggle in a fascinating and arousing manner. “I have one more report to finish. Just...sit quietly somewhere for twenty minutes, okay?”

The woman had a repertoire of evil grins and she pulled one of them out now. “Okay,” she agreed, sauntering toward him. “What? Fuck,” he swore as she dropped into his lap. He hadn't specified _where_ she should sit, and she was the type who would take advantage of any loophole. She said nothing, grin stretching wider, and wiggled slightly. The stirring became a full-fledged erection, and she shifted slightly to sit flush against him, back to front, trapping it between her gorgeous thighs. He tipped his head back, taking deep breaths. He wanted her, badly, but he was going to finish this report if it killed him.

Taking up the datapad again, he tried to find his place. His left hand settled on Ryder's hip out of habit, which was a mistake because his fingers encountered the thin material of her panties and slipped under the strap of their own accord. Ryder shifted in his lap, and he lost his place as his cock rubbed between her thighs. 

Another deep breath. He made it two lines before Ryder spread her knees and stretched, arching back against him and grinding into his crotch. He growled and tried to ignore her. Found his place once more. Read another line, but couldn't remember what it said because she turned her face to his neck and licked the pulse point, then breathed over it to send chills over him. 

“Are you sober?” he asked coolly. She nodded, still obeying his request to be quiet. “Then be still, or I'll hogtie you and leave you alone in the bedroom,” he threatened. She turned sideways and settled into a comfortable position with her head against his shoulder. When he was sure she was done moving, he found his place once again.

Three lines. Four. Five. He started to relax. She was going to be good for once. Then he felt her muscles tighten, the coil of a leopard about to pounce. “Ryder…” he warned. She settled with a huff. Six lines. The second-to-last paragraph.

She tilted her head and nibbled his ear, sending a shot of lust straight to his groin. Without a word, he scooped her up and stood.

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - oh!” Her pleas became a startled exclamation as he set her on her feet just long enough to throw her over his shoulder. “Reyes, please!” 

He bit her ass, making her yelp. “I warned you. Now you'll wait in here,” he growled as he strode into the bedroom and pulled silken ropes from the toy drawer in the dresser. He dropped her on the bed, hauling her back and pinning her on her stomach when she tried to scramble away. “You disagree?” he asked. She settled; she knew the rules of their games. “Noooo,” she groaned, burying her face in the sheets. 

“Safeword?” He demanded as he strung the ropes round the columns of her limbs, binding her elbows together, her ankles, joining the two behind her back. Her throat he left, since he'd be in the other room for a time and didn't want to put her at risk. She panted her word out, the same as always. It was a point of pride for him that he could read her well enough to take her to the edge of using it yet not push her over, but he made sure they were both clear on what it was every time.

When she was secure, he stepped back and looked at his work with a critical eye. She wasn't bound tightly enough to cause discomfort quickly, but she definitely wasn't going anywhere. She glared at him, taking long, slow breaths. “Don't give me that look. I gave you fair warning,” he scolded. 

As he returned to his work, he realized leaving her like that was even more tempting for him than having her in his lap was. Having the Pathfinder tied up in his bed was one of his favorite fantasies, her strength and beauty bound for his pleasure, to use and manipulate as he saw fit. He still couldn't believe sometimes that he had won her over. Not only that, but that they were so compatible, that she was so willing to play his games.

With a shake, he pushed the thoughts away and found the cold single-mindedness of the Charlatan. This report had to be finished and orders issued to various Collective cells. Business before pleasure, always. 

His reading went much faster without the temptations of a nearly-naked woman in his lap. He was considering various courses of action when he heard a furious rustling of bed sheets. She hadn't shouted her safeword, so she was just being naughty and trying to escape. Her snarled curse confirmed it, and he smirked as he started drafting orders, shifting to get more comfortable as he grew hard again.

Finally, his work was done. Twenty minutes was long enough to frustrate them both, but he couldn't let her see that. Ryder was red-faced and panting in the rumpled sheets from her obvious attempts to escape. “Comfortable?” he asked teasingly, stroking himself through his trousers. He knew she wasn't. She was going to be very sore tomorrow if she didn't let SAM do something about it. She usually didn't, considering it part of the game.

She snarled at him. “Do I look comfortable? Get over here and fuck me, you asshole.” He smiled and let the Charlatan slide forward a bit more. He still hadn't figured out how she knew when it happened, but she always recognized it.

“Shit,” she swore, dropping her head. When she looked back up, he was wearing a jackal’s grin. She was his to do with as he pleased, and she knew it. Her tongue slid across her lower lip, the flash of pink enticing. “Please,” she started, swallowing the rest as he stepped closer.

“Please, what?” he asked, tipping her chin up. It was an awkward angle given how she was tied, and her next words were strained. “Please don't make me wait any longer...I just want to come.”

“You should have thought of that half an hour ago,” he pointed out, letting her chin go to reach for his boot knife. She froze, watching the blade. “Be very still,” he instructed. When she didn't move even to nod, he skimmed the blade quickly along each hip, slicing her panties off without breaking her skin. Goosebumps rose and she shivered at the touch of metal. He set the knife on the bedside table and slid a finger along her lower lips. “Wet already? This is going to be fun.”

She groaned, knowing that orgasm denial was one of his favorite punishments. Normally he combined it with sensory deprivation, but tonight he was going to try something different. 

He started by slowly pushing two fingers into her, enjoying both her sigh of relief and her attempts to touch his cock with her mouth. She was just getting worked up when he stepped away. She looked up, confused. Normally he took her closer to completion before leaving her, and he knew she was aware of how well he could read her. 

Before she had time to think that he'd made a mistake, he dropped his trousers, pulled his shirt over his head, and slid out of his boxer-briefs. Her eyes roved his body and she shuddered as he plunged his fingers deep inside her again, thoroughly moistening them with her fluids...and then taking another step back to drop into the armchair in the corner of the room. Her look of confusion vanished as he started running his lubricated hand up and down his shaft, drinking in the sight of her as he stroked with sure, steady movements. 

“Reyes…” she panted, catching on. 

“What do you want me to do to you?” he purred. 

“Stop playing with yourself and fuck me!” she snarled between gritted teeth, frustration making her demanding. 

He smirked. “Try again.” Her eyes widened. He tipped his head back and started fondling his balls with his other hand. 

“Reyes…” he brought his head back down, trapping her gaze with his. She squirmed in a half-hearted attempt to free herself from knots she knew wouldn't come undone. “I want you to fuck my face while you eat my pussy,” she said, dismay entering her expression when he stroked himself faster. “Before we come, I want you to fuck me on my hands and knees, from behind, because you feel even bigger like that…” _Oooh, that's a nice idea_ , he thought, feeling his orgasm rise. The combination of seeing her tied up and hearing her describe what she wanted while she was in a position to do nothing about it took self-pleasure to a new level.

Dismay became panic as she realized he was close to finishing himself. She kept going, obviously hoping that if she struck on the right thing that he'd return to her, but that wasn't the name of the game tonight. He maintained eye contact with her as he climaxed, letting the spurts fall where they would. The hopeless noise she made watching it was exquisite, her struggles and curses after he was done even more so. 

Not bothering to wipe himself off, he lazily approached the bed and flopped onto it beside her. She struggled to turn toward him, and he ran a finger up her spine, enjoying her shudder. “What would you do if I untied you?”

“Lick it off,” Ryder replied immediately. That sounded like an excellent idea, so he sat up long enough to undo the knots binding her ankles to her wrists, and, after a moment's thought, the ones tying her ankles together. She groaned as she stretched her muscles and he rubbed her legs, getting circulation flowing normally.

He'd barely laid back on the bed before she was on him, cleaning him with long strokes of her tongue. He tweaked a nipple idly and she gasped. When she kissed her way up his torso he caught her by the back of the neck and kissed her, tasting himself but not caring. She was unbalanced with her arms still bound behind her, and she made a small sound as she nearly toppled over. He steadied her without breaking the kiss, then continued toying with her nipple until she moaned against his mouth. 

Reyes released her and she sat back on her heels, eyes hot with delayed lust. “Ass up,” he commanded, and she immediately complied. He shifted to his knees behind her and dove in, licking her pussy with varying strokes. Her cries alternated between thanking him and begging him to put his cock in her. After a few more minutes he felt sufficiently recovered and stroked himself hard.

“Ready?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

“YES, you bastard!”

She’d barely finished before he thrust into her roughly. It didn't take her long to come but he kept up a driving pace, rubbing her clit until she clenched around him a second time. Only then did he allow himself his second orgasm of the night.

Before pulling out of her, he undid the remaining ropes. She slid off and collapsed. He enjoyed the spent look of her for a moment before massaging her arms, moving up to her shoulders, and then down her body to make sure blood was moving after so long restrained.

She relaxed under his hands, sinking deeper into the sheets and pillows. He kept going a little longer before stretching out beside her and stroking her hair. “All good?” he asked softly. She turned her head to glare at him, the attempt ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yes. But you're a fucking tease, making me watch you pleasure yourself,” she said. 

He grinned. “I'm usually the model gentleman…but I always put business before pleasure.”


	3. Darkness on Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes wasn't always the hard-ass Charlatan. Some skills had to be learned, however much he didn't want to learn them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My submission for Reyes Appreciation Week Day 3. Prompt is Dark Moments, Bright Lights: explore how a dark moment or a bright one helped make Reyes the man he is.
> 
> Timeline: pre-Andromeda. Reyes left the Alliance about a year before and has drifted to Omega.
> 
> TW: implied torture, mention of his past (domestic abuse)
> 
> Obviously I've chosen the dark moment.

“Vidal!”

Reyes looked up from where he was crouched against the grimy wall, trying to hide in the shadows and ignore the screams and sobs, the pleading for mercy. He'd been hoping Decimus would forget about him, not pull him into the interrogation. _Call it what it is,_ he berated himself. _Torture._

“Get over here. It's time to earn your keep.”

For all of three seconds Reyes bristled, tempted to remind his turian commander that he did plenty to earn his keep that didn't involve torturing people: he was an excellent shuttle pilot, even better at seeing patterns in intelligence reports, and handy with a variety of weapons or fists and feet in a fight. Unfortunately, since leaving the Alliance military he'd discovered these skills were hard to put to work honestly, which was how he'd found himself scratching a living as an unaffiliated smuggler on Omega and then recruited as a low-level thug in Aria T’Loak’s organization when he couldn't make enough credits to eat after paying protection fees to the various gangs.

He deflated, remembering the last beating he'd taken for balking. Every time he thought he was in a position to become more, become better, he was proven wrong. He'd never stop trying, though. One day he'd live up to the promise he'd made himself as a child, bleeding on the kitchen floor after another brutal battering from his father: he would be someone, and he'd be in a position where nobody would dare beat him again. Someone who could help people. His time would come, but for now...for now he belonged to Decimus.

Hate and fear roiled in his stomach as he rose and slowly approached the table, where a sobbing human woman was shackled. His heart twisted and his gorge rose; he desperately didn't want to hurt her. Decimus saw his hesitation, he always did, crowing about how easy humans were to read, how emotional they were. The turian casually traced an ungloved talon across his throat, just hard enough to sting, and Reyes stiffened. “Do it, or I'll strap you down next to her,” Decimus growled. It wasn't an idle threat. The turian was a sadist and Reyes had been forced to watch his predecessor die screaming before being “promoted” from thug to errand boy; the death had served as a lesson twice over. First, in what would happen to him if he betrayed Aria in the slightest way. Second, in how to torture humans. He didn't want to do this, but he was good at many things...survival most of all.

Swallowing, he took the knife extended to him by Decimus’ second, a bastard of a batarian named Bragg. Bragg smiled toothily at his reluctance. He had a hatred of humans in general, and made a point of watching every single one of the beatings Reyes had taken for insubordination. Reyes hated him.

The woman screamed at him through her tears as he approached with the knife. “Monster! You're a monster, just like them!” He wasn't, but he swallowed his objections. He was the one standing there with a bared blade and the intent to use it, and denying it would only earn him another thrashing. Given Decimus’ current mood, it might even get him set alongside their nameless victim.

_His_ victim. He would own what he did, as sick and filthy as it made him feel. 

She screamed again as he started with the knife, exactly as Decimus had shown him. He may have been reluctant, but he'd always been a good student.

***

Much later, when he'd been released from duty by a smugly aroused Decimus, Reyes sat in Afterlife nursing a whiskey and feeling broken. He'd washed his hands half a dozen times, but there was still blood in his nailbeds. At least the whiskey got rid of the taste of vomit.

The turian's last words before letting him go for the night echoed in his head, taunting him: _“Since you enjoyed this so much, it's going to be your only job until you excel at it.”_ He didn't know if he could go back tomorrow. But if he didn't, they would hunt him down. 

He was still saving up to buy a shuttle of his own, rather than hiring himself out as a pilot to fly for the gangs, so the only way off the station would be to convince a merchant to take him or pay half the value of the shuttle he wanted to a gang. He refused to put an innocent party at risk, stealing a shuttle would be the quick way to a slow death, and he couldn't afford to pay a criminal to smuggle himself off. If he wanted to live, he was trapped.

“Rough night?” asked Ilara, the asari bartender and sometime dancer. He flinched and stared blankly at her. Who was he, now? How could she bear to speak to him?

She cocked her head, looking more closely. Her eyes flicked over him, pausing at his hands, and he clenched them into fists to hide his nails. “First...kill?”

Reyes shook his head. “Torture,” he grated out, tossing back the whiskey. Maybe if he was drunk he wouldn't hear the screams in his head anymore. Ilara looked at him sympathetically and he nearly vomited again. He was the worst kind of scum, and she looked at him like that? 

“A word of advice,” she said, pouring another healthy splash of whiskey into his glass. “Get off Omega, or learn what everyone else who wasn't born fucked in the head has learned: sometimes you need to separate yourself from the awful shit you have to do to survive here. If you can't find a place to hide in your head or someone else to become in your mind, you'll make the wrong move and you'll die.”

Leave, hide in his own mind, become someone else, or die. Shitty options. He swirled the amber liquid to give his stomach a moment to settle. He couldn't leave; he didn't have the credits, or anywhere to go. The ever-present threat of violence in his childhood meant he was always hyper-aware of his actions, so hiding from himself wouldn't work, and dying wasn't an option. That left becoming someone else. Someone who could do the things he wasn't hard enough for.

“Does it work?” he asked, scared to hear the answer.

“I'm still here,” Ilara quipped. “Maybe you won't be a good person, but you'll be alive.”

Reyes downed the whiskey. That was the only option, then. He just had to survive long enough to find a way out.


	4. Practical Jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes gets some love on the Tempest after Ryder's practical joke backfires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut and naked Reyes for blacksheep33512, who mentioned wanting some naked Reyes on Tumblr ;).
> 
> Day 4 of Reyes Appreciation Week. Prompt: Love Me or Leave Me - love Reyes up or break his heart. 
> 
> I can't resist loving Reyes...

“Ryder, give me my clothes,” Reyes growled. The woman was feeling mischievous today and had hidden his clothing somewhere in her quarters on the Tempest while he took the rare opportunity to sleep in. 

The Pathfinder shook her head, grinning widely. “You have to pay me a forfeit!” she laughed, eyes sparkling in a way that would make him want to kiss her if she wasn't playing a prank on him.

Scowling, he fisted his hands on his hips. “I will not. Nobody blackmails the Charlatan.”

She laughed again. “Then I guess you'll have to go naked!” 

He felt a wicked grin slide across his face, watched hers slip. Two could play this game. _She_ might be prudish in front of her crew, but he had no such misgivings. He shrugged and caught a glimpse of her face flashing to horror as he turned and walked out the door, bare as the day he was born. “Reyes!” she shrieked loudly behind him. He didn't turn around as a mad rustling noise suggested a frantic recovery of his clothing. 

He was already halfway to the bathroom when Gil stepped out. Looked, blinked, looked over Reyes’ shoulder, eyebrows raised. 

“Good morning,” Reyes greeted him as he passed, as if walking naked in the public areas of the Tempest was both normal and completely acceptable.

“It certainly is,” Gil agreed. “Ryder, I don't know what prompted this but I fully endorse it as a morale-building effort.”

Reyes glanced back to see Ryder standing in the doorway of her quarters with a pile of his clothes, her face flaming red - no mean feat for someone with her skin tone. “Oh, you found them. Thank you, _mi amor_. I'll be in the shower,” he said with a smirk. Her eyes darted between him and Gil, and then upward as her look of dismay grew. 

“Ryder, what are you - oh,” Peebee said from the upper level. As he walked into the bathroom, he heard the asari say, “Can he visit more often?”

Reyes chuckled at the spluttering noises Ryder was making. She was perfectly happy to go wild behind closed doors and had once riled up Tartarus with exhibitionist dancing while she was drunk, but she was usually the soul of discretion otherwise. It wasn’t shame; it just wasn’t in her nature to flaunt their relationship, a fact that both amused him and provided endless opportunities to tease her. Were it not for the secrecy required by their circumstances he’d happily treat her as the prize she was for all the world to see. One day, maybe.

He stepped into the shower and switched the water on, not surprised when Ryder entered the bathroom behind him. He stood with his back to her and pretended not to have heard, groaning with satisfaction when the hot water hit his skin and running his fingers through his hair. The water on the Tempest was always properly heated, for a little while, anyway, and never smelled of even the faintest hint of sulfur. It was the only time he really felt clean, and it was a luxury he rarely passed up on her visits to port.

“ _You_ are a _bastard_ ,” Ryder announced. In his peripheral vision, he saw her drop his clothes onto the shelf to the side. “So you keep telling me,” he said lightly, soaping up. “But you _did_ say I’d have to go naked.” He couldn’t stop a low chuckle at her wordless sound of frustration. She always seemed to forget that he had no shame where the physical was concerned, and even enjoyed displaying before an audience. Usually, he reined himself in for her comfort but when such a gorgeous opportunity presented itself he couldn’t help but take advantage of it.

Turning to face her, he ran his hands over his body, taking an extra moment to fondle himself. Predictably, her gaze sharpened and her lips parted slightly. Reyes was always confident of the effect of his body on both men and women but always enjoyed being reminded of his specific effect on her. She was young, intelligent, beautiful, and, whether she wanted to be or not, powerful; she could have her pick of partners in the galaxy. But she had chosen him, and loved him with a fierceness he would have found frightening had he not loved her equally so. 

“Join me?” he purred, rinsing himself off. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, then back down to his stiffening cock. She licked her lips and started disrobing, dropping her pajama shorts and tank top carelessly on the floor. He reached out and pulled her under the water, shutting the privacy curtain between the shower and the rest of the bathroom. She kept coming and pushed him against the wall aggressively, licking and nibbling hungrily at the skin of his neck and jaw, hands skimming up his back. As a general rule he preferred being the dominant one, but given the fact that her action was driven by his instigation, he kind of still was. 

Her breasts pressed against him and she slid them side to side slowly, clearly enjoying the feeling of the wet, sparse hair on his chest against her nipples. He rested his head back against the wall, enjoying the ministrations of her tongue, liking it even better as she kissed lower, over the flat muscles of his abdomen, and knelt. 

The sight of her on her knees before him, looking up, was always incredibly arousing. To have the Pathfinder submit to him and put herself at his disposal was a high he’d never tire of. Knowing what they both liked, Reyes grasped her wet hair in one hand and his cock in the other. Obligingly, she opened up to take him in. The coolness of the wall at his back contrasted with the warmth of her mouth, sending a thrill through him. He dictated the pace and she kept up, hollowing her cheeks to suck with a swirling tongue when he pulled her back and opening her throat to take him in when he compelled her forward. She made little figure-eights on his balls with one hand and used the other to massage the spot of nerves between his balls and his ass, a delicious feeling he hadn’t experienced with anyone else. He groaned at the increased sensation the movement offered. 

When he wasn’t far from orgasm he pulled her back, intending to fuck her and give her some of the pleasure, but she protested. “I want to taste you,” she murmured just loud enough to be heard over the falling water. That worked for him, especially if she was going to continue with that little massage. 

Knowing that he didn’t have to hold himself back and that the hot water would run out eventually, he set a pace to finish quickly. His climax rose hard and fast, intensified by her extra stimulation, and he had to lock his knees to stay upright as he held her close and spilled into her mouth. Her nose touched his belly and he felt her struggling to swallow fast enough with him in so deeply. She didn’t tap out, so he kept her there until he was done. 

When he released her, she sat back on her heels and licked her lips, looking up at him with satisfaction. “That doesn’t encourage me _not_ to walk around your ship naked,” he noted lazily. Her eyes widened and she shot to her feet. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed. He spun her, trapping her against the wall and enjoying the spray of hot water on his back. “Only if you let me return the favor when we get back to your quarters,” he purred into her ear with a sharp nip at her neck. She shivered and kissed him. “Deal.”


	5. Summer Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes reaps the benefits of a Kadaran heat wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy smutty fluff. Day 5 of Reyes Appreciation Week: Winter Snow or Summer Heat - write about dealing with a temperature extreme.

Reyes loved the heat of the Kadaran summer. The planet was a wind tunnel in the spring and autumn, with storms whipping through the canyons created by the mountain peaks, and a miserable rainy mess during its short winter. But summer...summer brought a pleasant dry heat, especially up in the port. A morning fog often hovered over the lakes - a deadly phenomenon before Ryder fixed the acidity of Kadara’s water, but beautiful. The winds lessened to light, playful breezes, and nearly every day was sunny.

This week Kadara was in the throes of a heat wave. Activity in port had slowed to a crawl. Those with credits sought shade and refreshment within Kralla’s Song and Tartarus; those without sat in wilted, sweaty misery under the paltry shadows cast by shop awnings and pillars.

Reyes, unbothered by the heat even as it slicked him with sweat, was working on his shuttle at the docks. With all his buyers canceling meetings to stay indoors he took the opportunity to undertake some overdue maintenance. Normally he wouldn't have left it for so long, but with Ryder's success in establishing Initiative outposts business was booming. He'd never been more successful and had more credits to his name than he had dreamed existed as a child in the slums of Valparaíso. It made him want to celebrate.

His omnitool pinged with an incoming message. He pulled himself out of the shuttle's maintenance hatch, rubbing sweat from his brow and scowling with annoyance when he realized that hand had oil on it. “Vidal,” he answered briskly.

“The Tempest just hit atmosphere,” Keema informed him.

“Shit, she's early,” Reyes muttered, looking down at himself. He'd known she was due today but had thought he could finish his work before she arrived. His jacket and gloves had been discarded in the shuttle. The pilot's coverall he wore to work on the little ship was half off, arms tied around his waist, and his usual black t-shirt was with the jacket. He was smeared in a mixture of oil and sweat. It was not a look Ryder had seen before and he wasn't sure she'd be impressed.

“Why is that a problem?” Keema asked, sounding confused.

Reyes sighed. “I've been working on the shuttle. I'm not presentable,” he complained. Keema laughed. “When are you ever?” she teased. Reyes scoffed in mock offense and she continued. “You might be surprised. I think the Pathfinder might like a change of pace.” He could hear her smirk over the voice channel. 

“Let's hope you're right,” he said, looking up at the distinctive roar of the Tempest's engines. “She's touching down. Thanks for the warning.”

Keema ended the call, and he looked for a relatively clean rag to wipe his hands off with. By the time he'd found one, the gangway on the Tempest was lowering. He strode to the end of his docking slip, watching as Ryder bounded off, blue hair tugged by the breeze, followed by those of her crew inclined to enjoy what Kadara offered: Drack, Vetra, Peebee, Gil, and Liam. Liam and Gil headed straight through the entry to the main part of the port, talking loudly about Kralla’s Song, as Ryder looked around. Looked past him...and then her head snapped back and her jaw dropped as she recognized him under the sheen of grime.

He sauntered over. If he was going to look a mess, he might as well own it. Peebee and Vetra had stopped to see what had caught her attention, and Peebee laughed. “Woo! Is it hot today, or is it just me? Careful Ryder, or Gil's gonna give you a run for your money!”

Ryder made no response as her eyes traveled over him, mouth still hanging slightly ajar as he stopped in front of the small group. “Pathfinder,” he greeted her. “Vetra. Pelessaria,” he offered teasingly to the asari to get her back for the comment about Gil. Peebee stuck her tongue out at him, a human gesture she must have learned from Ryder.

The Pathfinder finally closed her mouth and swallowed, taking another long, slow look at him. “Vidal,” she returned breathily. “Doing some actual work today?”

Maybe Keema was right. He shrugged modestly while giving her a sultry look. “I'm good with my hands as well, not just my mouth.” He was rewarded with a flush from her, a giggle from Peebee, and an exasperated subvocal rumble from Vetra. “Let's go, Peebee,” the turian said, bodily pulling Peebee away. “Bye, Reyes!” the asari flirted, harmlessly. She knew he belonged to Ryder, and would never make a serious try for him, but could rarely pass up expressing her appreciation for the show he always put on. He winked at her, playing his role as Kadara Port’s infamously charming information broker to the hilt and winning another giggle. Ryder never seemed bothered by it, apparently secure in her claim on him and accepting of the act they had to put on in public. 

When he turned his attention back at Ryder, she was looking at him with barely concealed lust. “See something you like, Pathfinder?” he purred, shifting his weight onto one hip and striking a subtle pose he knew showed off the muscles of his arms and made his abs clench. She swallowed visibly. _She's going to give us away if we stand here much longer,_ Reyes thought with an equal mixture of satisfaction and concern. He truly hadn't expected this reaction from her. Usually he was fastidiously clean, a fact she seemed to appreciate, but apparently, there was room for situational messiness. He made a mental note and filed it away for later.

Ryder blinked her way back into coherence, her gaze still taking in his body rather than meeting his eyes. “Time for a drink once you’ve gotten cleaned up?”

Reyes pouted. “What, you don’t want to help me?” He took advantage of her distraction and dragged a finger through the slick of oil on his abs, watching her eyes follow it hungrily. She bared her teeth in vexed frustration, her attention not leaving the trail of his finger, and hissed, “Only if it involves throwing you in a lake, you cheeky fuck.”

He took a step closer, into her space. She stayed where she was despite being forced to look up at him, brows lowering. She never backed down from his challenges, and he loved it about her. “That can be arranged,” he breathed. “Both the lake _and_ the fuck. Meet me in Haarfel in half an hour.”

She nodded sharply and turned to reboard the Tempest, presumably going for the Nomad.

***

Even with taking a quick shower he beat her out to the spot he’d chosen for their homestead, having flown out in his shuttle while she took on the rocky terrain in her rover. He saw her coming from his elevated perch on the plateau, the long trail of dust behind her flaring like a flag. For reasons he still had yet to determine she'd had the Nomad plated in gold, and the vehicle was unmistakable. 

When a scan revealed no other ships or lifeforms other than the usual fucking dinosaurs in the area, he lifted off and buzzed her, laughing when she swerved reflexively. “Fuck you, Reyes!” she swore over the comm channel, a note of exasperated love in the curse.

“Soon,” he laughed. “Follow me.” 

Reyes led them to a secluded spot, not far from their homestead site and Kadara’s Remnant vault. There was a convenient crevice to hide his shuttle in, and he had time to walk out to the trail leading in between two crags as she forced her little tank up the incline. He was waiting beside a wide, still pool when she rolled to a stop. 

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” she shouted as the hatches opened and she leapt out. Unarmored, but he was willing to bet she had her kit stashed in the back, along with her weapons, since she'd come alone. She was reckless, not stupid. 

She'd changed into cutoff shorts and a flowing top the same aquamarine shade as her eyes, with thin straps and a neckline that skimmed low over her breasts. Unless he was mistaken, she wasn't wearing a bra, going by the tight little nibs of her nipples showing through. Knowing her, that meant no panties, either. His cock stirred and he looked her up and down with open admiration. _Those legs...mmm_ , he thought lustfully. They'd be wrapped around his waist before they left, or he wasn't Reyes Vidal. “Took you long enough,” he taunted.

“I know how much you like your showers,” she threw back. “Figured I’d give you enough time to scrub off all that muck you were covered in.” Her eyes smoldered. It seemed Keema was right. Ryder _had_ liked the look of him smeared in engine lubricant. 

Smiling, he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. He’d missed her; he always did. He loved her fierce independence and would never try to tie her down, but he always wished for more time with her. She gripped his hips, tugging at him urgently, and he smiled against her mouth. “Now, about that lake…”

Before she had time to do more than look up at him questioningly, he'd thrown her over his shoulder and turned toward the water. She yelped. “Reyes, what -”

Her words were cut off as he took a small hop and launched them into the cool depths from an outcropping ledge. He already knew this particular pool was deeper than it looked, deep enough to jump in without breaking something. He released Ryder as soon as they hit the water, already laughing at her expected outrage as he popped up next to her.

She didn't disappoint. “You crazy bastard!” she shouted, treading water and sputtering. She tried to splash him, going under briefly as she overdid it, which only made him laugh harder. He loved her wicked intelligence and sexy body, but she was also simply fun to be with. There was nobody else in two galaxies with whom he could just relax and laugh.

Her glare as she resurfaced was accented by a twinkle that suggested mischief. It was another thing he loved about her - she didn't get mad, she got even. There was no better way to keep him on his toes. When she dove, he started swimming to shore with swift strokes. He'd always been a strong swimmer, and she brushed his ankle but couldn't catch him before he hauled himself out to sit on the bank.

“You're all wet,” he laughed as she pulled herself out of the water.

She smirked, accepting defeat gracefully. “You tend to do that to me.” She plopped down next to him, plucking at her clothes. The dark areolas surrounding her nipples showed clearly through the now-sheer fabric of the shirt, and he couldn't stop staring at them. “For some reason, I didn't actually think we'd be swimming,” she muttered, wringing water out of her top in a motion that exposed her abs.

Reyes arched an eyebrow. “Then I guess we'll have to take off our clothes and let them dry.” Acting on his words, he peeled his t-shirt off and laid it aside, then stood and toed his boots off as he unbuttoned his trousers. Ryder watched him with wide eyes. “Unless you want to explain to your crew why you're all wet,” he suggested casually. She stood and stripped in a flash, not wanting to suffer the embarrassment. He'd been right - all she was wearing was that thin top and those little shorts.

“Better,” he purred when they were both naked, admiring the sleekly muscled lines of her. She came to him for a kiss, grasping his cock, and he groaned with pleasure as she stroked him firmly. He held her mouth to his with a hand on the back of her head and caressed one of her breasts with the other, rolling the nipple between his fingers to make her moan.

He shifted his hands under her thighs, prompting her to jump up and wrap her legs around him, and he carried her the short walk to the shady side of the Nomad. As he pressed her up against it, his mind flashed to the time she'd demanded he fuck her against the window of their apartment overlooking the port so he could see all that he'd achieved while taking his pleasure. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he'd ever done, and the echo of the memory now spiked his lust and made him rough with her.

Fortunately, she liked him being rough as much as he did, and tipped her head back against the side of the rover, gasping. He bit the side of her neck rather than nibbling, and she cried out, arms tightening around his shoulders. 

“Fuck me, Reyes,” she begged between panting breaths. As hard and turned on as he was, he was all too happy to oblige. With her arms tight around his shoulders and her weight balanced against the side of her tank, he freed one hand to position his cock at her moist entrance and thrust into her with all the longing that had built up since her last visit. Her snarled groan of his name combined with a savage bite tearing at his shoulder told him she'd been wanting this too, so he drove into her at a pace intended to punish. 

She welcomed it, moving against him in a way that drew him into the heat of her core and spurred him to claim her with increasing intensity. The warmth of the sun combined with the heat between her thighs to raise his blood to a boiling point, and he lost himself in the slick wetness of her pussy, the cries of her pleasure, and the sharp bite of her nails in the flesh of his shoulders and back.

Normally he only marked her when he'd come close to losing her, but the burning passion in his blood demanded it today. She screamed and ground her hips against him as he bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking at the soft skin and raising a livid bruise. Despite her prudishness in front of her crew she always seemed to like when he claimed her and marked her as his. It would be impossible to hide with what what she was wearing today, and the primitive part of his brain delighted in it. She was _his_ , and nobody else’s; the Pathfinder screamed his name in her passion, and his alone, as she did now. 

The clench of her pussy around him was his undoing and he shuddered his climax into her, whispering her name as he kissed her. When he was finished she wiggled in the way that indicated she wanted down, but fell all the way when he released her. 

As much as he enjoyed her on her knees, he had another treat in store. He was pleasantly exhausted but found the strength to scoop her up. The look of adoration she gave him as he walked to his shuttle made it worth it. Her shocked delight when he pulled a bottle from ice imported from Voeld made it a treasure. 

“It's not champagne, but it's bubbly,” he told her, not wanting her to get her hopes up too high.

Her smile lit the skies more brightly than Kadara's’ sun, and he enjoyed her squeals and wiggling as he held the ice-cold bottle against her belly while he carried her back to the lake. 

“To us,” he toasted, offering her the first sip after he set her down and opened the bottle. 

“To us,” she accepted, swallowing with a small jump at the bubbles and passing the bottle back. Her eyes locked to his as he took a healthy draught from the bottle. _May we love forever_ , he wished, sipping and swallowing without breaking eye contact.

He passed the bottle back to Ryder before flopping down alongside her and enjoying heat of the day on his naked body. Sexually satiated and warmed by the sun, he'd started to doze off when a startlingly cold splash of water hit him.

“ _Hijo de puta madre_!” he roared, shooting up and wiping his face. Ryder's musical laughter rang from the lake. 

“Now you're in trouble,” he warned her, diving in. They wrestled and battled for superiority in the refreshingly cold water until both were thoroughly worn out, then passed the rest of the afternoon alternating between finishing their bottle of bubbly and cooling off in the lake until they passed out, exhausted in each other’s arms, under the summer sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know how these keep turning smutty, but it's not gonna happen for Day 6. Tomorrow just made me cry to write it. A lot. For real. (And I don't cry.) All aboard the angst train to Angstville!


	6. Truths and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes considers his relationship with the truth and what it means for his relationship with Ryder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 Prompt for Reyes Appreciation Week: Hard Truths / White Lies. Explore lying versus truth-telling in Reyes' world.
> 
> Angst, stream of consciousness, and more angst. No smut.

Reyes Vidal didn't consider himself a liar per se, but he could make the truth do incredible acrobatics and he was proud of it. It meant he'd figured out the rules of whatever game he was playing and bent them to his own objective. He himself preferred to receive a hard truth, but he'd found most of the galaxy didn't, so he gave people what they wanted. Shades of grey rather than black and white, omissions and partial answers rather than full facts.

Still, when it came to Ryder, he wondered if he was starting to believe his own lie. The one where he was actually a good guy forced to do bad things, rather than some _pendejo_ simply following his nature to personal benefit and incidentally helping others.

He caught himself at it sometimes. Being acutely aware of his own actions was the curse of his past, so he saw the deceptions as they flowed from his lips. The partial justifications. The misrepresented half-truths. The hidden facts. The blatant hypocrisies. The indefensible acts. He spoke them, saw them, and yet kept doing them. They always seemed so necessary at the time. He suspected Ryder caught those moments as well but loved him too much to do more than tease or grump at him. He took full advantage of it, and they both knew it.

A secret corner of his heart was terrified that they were going to crash and burn. He'd strayed too far from the good-hearted boy he'd been. Didn’t take the chances to make different choices in his efforts to become the man who would be above being beaten and threatened, who could know and control everything. He knew, as he kissed Ryder and promised her the galaxy on a string to wear around her neck, that he would break her heart eventually. She'd figure him out, sooner or later, see him for who he was afraid he really was. A coward too afraid of his reality to fully grasp the sweet promise of what she offered. A psychopath incapable of loving her as purely as she deserved. A smooth criminal unworthy of her naively honest attempts to bring good to Andromeda, as much as he admired them. 

Still, he clung to her as if she was his personal savior, as if she alone could judge him for his sins. He told her things he'd never shared with anyone, not even the sister who'd defended him as a child. Found the courage to bare some of the truths he'd kept hidden in his heart to try and make a connection that would last. 

He swore he loved her, that she was the one for him - and believed it - all the while continuing his plots and plans for the Collective. Using her, taking advantage of the intel she offered, to know when to press his advantage and when to cut his losses. He consoled himself with the shield of the promise he'd made her: that he wouldn’t hide the big stuff. He'd kept his promise so far and she still accepted him as he was, secrets, half-truths, dirty deeds, and all. Given what he’d learned about her, she probably didn’t think she deserved better - but she did, and he knew it.

The hard truth was that he really did love her even though he hadn't intended that they would be together. She was meant to be a one-night stand or a short-term fling, a sweet piece of ass to add spice to the job Evfra had asked of him, not the love of his life. He dreamed of starting a family with her, telling himself comforting white lies about the feasibility of it. He didn't really want to think about the practicalities of the Pathfinder and the Charlatan having a happily ever after, for all that he'd chosen a homestead and presented her with the possibility. There were conflicts between her position with the Initiative and his with the Collective, and while she’d indicated she'd rather leave the Initiative than him he wasn't sure there Nexus would allow it to be an option. 

Just for once, he wanted the happy ending to fall into his lap. He'd worked so hard for everything else, and made so many sacrifices. He wanted the good this one person saw in him to be the truth, this one time.

Sometimes his conscience got the better of him and he pulled away from her, seeking refuge in his role as the Charlatan. Things were clearer, sharper, more manageable. Safe. He could ignore his feelings and focus on needs. The needs of Kadara, the needs of the Collective. Ryder's needs, even, on the occasions when she went beyond what even she was capable of handling. Anything but what he himself needed to feel loved and whole, because that was frightening to him. He wasn't sure he deserved it, and he was afraid to reach out and claim it. The physical he would readily explore and enjoy without shame or regret. Anything deeper was terra incognita, a threat he wasn't prepared to deal with, as much as he might want it. More hard truths.

Ryder herself was part of this new evaluation of his relationship with the truth. She was _dontmesswithmeorillkickyourass_ all stuffed into a fierce little spirit, and yet she was fragile, vulnerable, desperately seeking love wherever she could find it while pretending she didn't need it. For whatever reason, she found it within him. Looked at him as if he was the only person who had ever treated her as if she had any worth, which he never quite believed even as he desperately wanted to be that one special person who had taken notice of how brilliant she was. The truths of his darkness and insecurity didn't matter alongside her light and positivity, the brightness that followed her into every room, the passion that she inspired in everyone she came in contact with. He was a charmer, a born con man, but she was hope personified despite her rough edges. He convinced, but she _converted_.

He wanted to warn her to run, that he wasn't worthy of the emotions shining from her eyes whenever she looked at him, but he was selfish. He drank her feelings in from her gaze and tried to focus on enjoying what was, rather than investing too much in plans for a future he was almost afraid to hope would come. Built his sand castles, knowing that the waves were probably coming up the beach, yet unable to resist.

He would break her eventually, shatter her into a million pieces or more without meaning to, and he knew it. That was another hard truth that she refused to see and he loved her too much to force on her. Because at the end of the day, they loved each other with a passion and need that was truly pure. They completed each other, their jagged pieces slipping together seamlessly. Shouldn't that be enough? Wasn't it enough that he risked his plans for mastering Kadara to be the man she believed he could be? The man she needed to inspire her in her fight for Heleus? He was _trying_ to be a better man, dammit.

Next to him, Ryder suddenly inhaled deeply and exhaled with a shudder, as if she'd subconsciously caught his brooding thoughts. She shifted closer in the darkness and threw an arm over him. Perhaps she was seeking refuge from one of the numerous nameless fears that haunted her everyday life and sometimes bled over into her nightmares. The kett, the hostile environments of planets long thrown into disorder, unknown enemies and political opponents. 

Were his occasional white lies really so bad? He protected her, provided resources, was prepared to kill and die for her. _Had_ killed for her, to ensure she had one fewer threat to worry about, and would do it again without thought or regret. But he knew, with his usual cutting clarity, that it was a slippery slope. 

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her forehead, relieved when her shivers slowed and stopped. Reyes wasn't a good man by any means, but she was his woman, the partner he’d always dreamed of having, and he was determined not to lose her to white lies, hard truths, or slippery slopes. He just needed to be better.

Surely good intentions had to count for something more than a paved road to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this chapter broke me (emotionally) to write it. Reyes is a complicated character and I tried to pull some of that out. I hope some of the emotion came through.
> 
> Ironically, the song on repeat while I wrote it was "Happiest Man on Earth" by Broken Back.


	7. Fear and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What ifs haunt Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 prompt for Reyes Appreciation Week 2017: What If or What Is. Write about a headcanon for Reyes, or something that could have happened. 
> 
> I'll let you discover which I went with. Eventual fluff.

“You want to avoid war by shooting each other?” Ryder broke in, sounding disgusted. Reyes didn’t look at her as he answered, justifying the duel he'd arranged with Sloane.

Sloane agreed to his terms, obviously confident that she could outdraw him. With a sniper in his corner, the shadow war between the Outcasts and the Collective would be over today. Ryder was the only spanner in the works. He hadn't expected her to be here. She wasn't supposed to be on Kadara at all. The look of shock on her face when he'd revealed himself as the Charlatan had faded into a grim mask that didn't bode well for him. _I should have listened to Keema. I should have told her before it came to this._

He took a step. Sloane took a step. They began to circle one another, the bad feeling in Reyes’ belly growing as he saw Ryder shift her head to look over his shoulder, directly at where the sniper was hidden. _Shit, shit, shit_. This was going to go terribly wrong, he could feel it. He didn’t know how she’d spotted the sniper, well concealed above them in the darkness, but now she knew. Her face hardened. _Focus on Sloane_ , he reminded himself. He would deal with Ryder’s reaction when he had to, and focus on his real enemy first.

It proved to be a mistake. Reyes and Slone took another step in their dance. The sniper signaled a clear shot with a click on the comm channel...and Ryder moved, knocking Sloane out of the line of fire. The bullet ripped through rock instead of the Outcast leader, spraying sharp chips of stone. Ryder drew her Mattock, firing up and into the darkness. Reyes heard a cry and the wet thud of a body hitting the ground but didn't dare look away from the barrel of the rifle now aimed at his head.

“Ryder…” he started, trying to stall. The rest of his people were too far away, but he had to try.

“You used me,” she whispered. 

Sloane barked a laugh. “He's a coward, it's what he does. Uses other people to chase his own dreams of power. Did you really think he was one of the good guys? Newsflash, princess: there are no good guys on Kadara.”

Ryder didn't reply. His heart raced as hurt washed across her face and she took a firmer grip on her weapon.

“Prove you're my ally. Kill him, and I'll allow an outpost,” Sloane offered as she smirked down at him. He watched as something shifted in Ryder’s face, became colder, harder, and he knew his luck had run out.

She fired.

Reyes sat up with a gasped shout, fighting bedsheets that had tangled around him. A startled Ryder rolled out of bed, flaring blue, grabbing her pistol from the bedside table and looking for the threat. He dropped his face into his hands, unable to look at her just yet. 

Seeing nothing but him and the usual quiet emptiness of her Tempest quarters, she got out of her defensive crouch. He was too busy focusing on breathing, head down and eyes closed, to notice until she put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and she withdrew, shifting closer without touching him.

“Reyes,” she whispered. He calmed slightly when she said his name. She didn't hate him. She hadn't chosen Sloane over him, hadn't fired point blank at his face and didn't want to. Her voice when she continued was full of love and concern, not hatred or disgust. “Reyes, you're okay. You're safe, on the Tempest. Whatever it was, it was a nightmare. I'm here.”

Usually, it was him soothing her when she woke unexpectedly. The role reversal was strange and he wanted to resist it at first. He'd never allowed anyone to see him like this. His nightmares were infrequent but when he had them, they were terrifyingly vivid and tended to focus on subconscious regrets or half-forgotten events from his childhood.

He took a deep breath and shuddered. “Can I touch you?” Ryder asked quietly, and he loved her for not judging him, for offering him space. He nodded once, still strangled by the dream. She moved to sit behind him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him as much as she could given her smaller size, resting her head against his back. They sat like that for a time in silence, until Reyes felt the fear gripping him ease with Ryder's steady touch. 

Carefully, he leaned into her a bit more, enough to rest his head against the board at the head of the bed. She didn't protest the extra weight, just shifted in the pillows, wrapping one arm around his waist and stroking his hair with the other. He closed his eyes and turned his face into her neck, breathing deeply to take in the smell of amber and orange flower, and underneath it, the scent that was uniquely her. She was safety, and home, and love.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured. She shivered as his lips brushed her neck. 

“It was a nightmare. You've dealt with enough of mine.” She snorted a laugh. “At least you’re not a biotic.” She was, and it had interesting consequences when nightmares took her.

He forced his next words out before he could swallow them and let her think that's what he was apologizing for. “Not just for waking you. For...using you. I should have told you I was the Charlatan sooner. I should have trusted you.”

Her hand stilled for a moment before resuming its soothing motion. She hadn't expected that. Unsurprising; he never apologized for things done as the Charlatan. “Oh, Reyes,” she whispered, kissing him. “I was mad but I understood, afterward. And I forgave you a long time ago. But thank you.” She kissed him again, squeezing the arm around his waist.

Reyes stayed where he was a few minutes longer, feeling selfish as he drank in the comfort she offered with her forgiveness and her physical envelopment of him, but needing it. It was hard for him to admit how much he craved physical reassurance when these nightmares struck and he usually buried himself in work or self-medicated with whiskey until the dream faded. Maybe curbing his criminal actions wasn't the only way Ryder could help him be a better man.

Sitting up, he turned to kiss her gently before moving away and settling himself on his side. She watched for a moment, waiting to see what he needed. He reached out and tugged her down next to him with an arm around her waist. She came easily and molded herself against his body, fitting perfectly in his embrace. Spooning her, knowing that she was safe in his arms and not out risking her life somewhere, knowing that she was _his_ and not Sloane's, chased the last of his fears from him. He didn't sleep for a while, thinking of all the things that could have been and the way they really were. He'd gotten luckier than he could have imagined with Ryder. 

Her breathing had evened out and was again a slow, measured rhythm. “Te amo,” he whispered into her hair, finally surrendering himself to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last of my Reyes Appreciation Week 2017 posts! If you enjoyed them and haven't read the beginning of their relationship, I would love if you considered reading [Looking for Trouble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10904271/chapters/24242682), covering the Kadara missions, or [Whiskey and Secrets](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11049426/chapters/24633372), an alphabet fic that covers the time from the Kadara missions to the end of the game. 
> 
> Also...I take prompts :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes accompanies Ryder to Voeld, where an unplanned stop at Techiix presents interesting opportunities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> queenofkadara challenged me to write "sexy times in a frozen wasteland" on Voeld, so this is for her. Plot is a vehicle for porn in this one...NSFW.
> 
> Set between chapters 23 and 24 (Whiskey and X) in Whiskey and Secrets - after Meridian, before Kadara.

If hell was a place in the galaxy, it would be Voeld. Reyes never minded the heat; it was cold that felt like punishment to him.

The ice planet seemed like an ideal next step for his expansion plans for the Collective. The angaran Resistance were favorably inclined toward his organization generally and himself personally, and the Initiative’s main interest there was harvesting ice to provide water for the Nexus, Elaaden and Eos. The planet was frozen over, so his setting up his own operation to get a cut of the ice business wouldn’t exactly be a threat. There were people outside the Initiative outposts who also needed fresh water, and his cells on Elaaden were continually complaining about the angara monopoly on water in Paradise, so he’d achieve two objectives at once: satisfy the needs of his people, and gain a new source of revenue to fund the Collective. 

Ryder, freshly recovered from her trials to find and take Meridian, had proposed him joining her on a victory tour of sorts. He accepted, flying escort in his shuttle and taking advantage of the opportunity to do a little PR and recruiting for the Collective, as well as make a few less than legal business deals with the outposts. A man had to eat, after all, and Ryder had only banned him from selling Oblivion to the Initiative settlements, not from interacting with them altogether.

Voeld was the stop he was least looking forward to despite the enormous potential it represented. He would happily bask in the warmth of Kadara’s summer sun during a heatwave but he wasn't made for this frozen wasteland, pretty as it was with the dancing of the aurora. He wasn't a stranger to snow - Chile was a mountainous country and Valparaíso had gotten the occasional snowfall in the higher elevations of the city - but he'd never seen _so much_ of it. It was depressing just to look at it all. 

They’d landed at Taerve Uni so that Ryder could check in on the outpost and reassure the mayor that the kett threat was, at least temporarily, handled. Reyes had plans to casually interview some of the ice miners but at the moment, he was waiting for Ryder to bring him some spare cold-weather gear from the Tempest. Although the settlement was relatively shielded it was still far too cold to go out in his casual Kadaran garb, a fact that irritated him slightly.

Two thumps low on the side of the shuttle announced Ryder. He triggered the door to let her in, eyebrows raising at the size of the bundle of clothing in her arms. The wind sliced in and tugged at his jacket, and he hurriedly shut the door with a shiver. Ryder dropped the clothes and pulled her helmet off, her blue hair standing on end from the static created by the dry environment. She looked ridiculous, and she looked beautiful. He darted in for a quick kiss before turning to the pile of clothes. 

“Are you sure you brought everything?” he asked wryly, surveying the heap. She grinned. “I guess we’ll find out. Strip, loverboy.”

“Strip?”

She pulled a thin layer that looked entirely too small from the pile. “Strip. Unless you think you can fit longjohns overtop of your trousers.”

If that’s how it was going to be, he’d make it a show. She sat on the bench to watch him, lips parting and eyes skimming over every inch of skin, every rippling muscle as it was revealed. By the time he was naked he had a semi from the intensity of her appreciation. Knowing he was desired was a turn-on, and he stroked himself as he stepped closer to her. The frustration of delayed gratification was always worth driving her crazy. 

Her breath caught, and then she leaned toward him as if to take him into her mouth, but he stepped back. Turquoise eyes met gold as she looked up sharply, questioningly. “You have a meeting with the mayor in…” he checked his omnitool and grinned cockily, “ten minutes. You can taste me now, but I _will_ make sure you’re late.” She considered for a full five seconds. “Bastard. I’ll get you for this later.”

His answering smile had a little of the Charlatan in it. “Not if I get you first.” She shivered, then threw the inner layers of clothing at him. Her order to get dressed sounded a little breathless. 

The many layers were frustrating and unpleasant. Constricting. If he did expand operations to Voeld, he would not be spending much time here. He moved awkwardly as he followed her to the mayor’s office for introductions, but was glad for the warmth as he left to go talk to some ice miners. Ryder took a little longer than expected with the mayor, but that just gave him more time to gather information and discover opportunities for deals. 

Still, it was a relief when she finally came striding out. That meant they could go back inside somewhere for a while. The landscape was beautiful in a frozen sort of way and the information he gathered was valuable, but he was too bloody cold to fully appreciate it. 

He couldn’t see Ryder’s face with her helmet on, but he heard the sly smile in her voice as they walked back to the shuttle. “How would you like to go out and inspect an ice mining site?” she proposed. It was exactly what Reyes had hoped to do while he was here, but all of his information said the sites were heavily guarded. Clean water was a valuable commodity for the Nexus and Elaaden, and a disruption would have serious effects, so he would need an Initiative official as a guide to get onsite.

“Have I mentioned how good you are to me?” Reyes asked. She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank me later. You’re flying though; Peebee and Jaal have errands to run and are taking the Nomad.”

“Deal,” he agreed. He could take his own scans and readings to review later. It would make the hassle of all the cold weather gear worth it. 

The flight out to the ice mining site was uneventful, as was the inspection. He’d let Ryder ask all the questions as to how things worked and whether they needed anything to run more smoothly, drinking in the information and filing it away for later reporting in his official capacity as a Collective agent. Ice mining was not a cheap business to get into, but it would be lucrative, and now he had most of the answers he needed to plan the first steps. 

A sudden blizzard blew onto his scope as they headed back to Taerve Uni. “Might as well weather it at Techiix,” Ryder suggested. “I promised Buxil I’d stop by to say hi anyway.”

***

They made it to Techiix just ahead of the storm. Reyes had had his hands full keeping the shuttle on course, but Ryder, for once, had sat quietly and let him concentrate. They both slumped in relief when he landed at the angara outpost. 

“And now, I need a drink,” Ryder said. “One of these days, I want to hear where you learned to fly like that. I’m no pilot, but I can recognize a difficult piece of flying.”

“One of these days, I’ll tell you my life’s story,” he replied absently as he shut everything off. “But for now, let’s go see about that drink. Preferably somewhere warmer.” 

Techiix itself wasn’t much warmer, but Buxil was pleased to see Ryder and surprisingly enthusiastic about meeting him. 

“ _You’re_ Shena?” she asked incredulously when Ryder introduced him. He grinned, used to the reaction, and stepped forward to greet her in the angaran fashion. “Stars and skies light your way,” he said politely in Shelesh. Buxil returned the salutation, then said, “I was going to say I thought you’d be more angara, but I guess you kind of are. Be welcome here, Shena.” Then she clapped her hands. “Not one, but _two_ honored guests! You must take the private quarters this evening. That is, unless you’d prefer the dormitory?” Her eyes darted between them, trying to ascertain their relationship. 

“We’ll share the private room,” Ryder said. “Thank you, Buxil. I hate to impose, but that storm was more intense than we expected.”

“Nonsense!” Buxil exclaimed, turning them to walk toward the living quarters. “Besides, it’s not as if Evfra’s ever here to use the room.”

Reyes glanced over at Ryder to see her looking at him with wide eyes. The private room was intended for visits from _Evfra_? A sudden thought shot through his mind. _Does that mean I can fuck Ryder in Evfra’s bed tonight?_ He felt his lips curl in a wicked smile. Ryder’s eyes widened as she realized what he was thinking, and she shook her head, pointing a finger at him and emphatically mouthing, “You are bad!” He dropped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear, naming the game for the evening. “How long do you think you can resist?”

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing the answer. Not long, but because he'd challenged her, she'd have to try.

***

There were formal niceties to be observed before he could get her alone, and he used a variety of tricks to keep her on edge during the evening meal. Deeper in the base it was warm enough that she’d shed her armor, and Buxil was delighted at the random, casual touches of affection he showed the Pathfinder. “This is lovely,” she declared, and Reyes smirked as he trailed a finger down the back of Ryder’s neck to raise goosebumps. “Closer ties between the Resistance and the Initiative can only be for the best. Look at what we achieved here, with the kett base.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Reyes purred. Ryder shivered.

By the time they got back to their room, Ryder was struggling to maintain equanimity. He doubted their angaran hosts would notice it, but he was intimately aware of her small tics and tells. When the door shut behind them, she whirled and shoved back him against it, staying where she was. The name of the game was resistance, after all, but now that she was out of sight of the others she dropped her mask to show the raw need hiding behind it. His striptease earlier had primed her, and an evening of teasing little touches had stoked her. 

His hand shot out and caught her by the back of the neck. Her eyes flashed and she tried to hold herself back, but he was the stronger and he’d learned these little power struggles only turned her on more. She moaned as her mouth met his and he ran a hand up under her shirt, turning her moan to a cry as he pinched a nipple hard. He released her a little, dipping his head to kiss along her neck, undoing and slipping a hand into her trousers. With the hand still on the back of her neck, he pulled her in for another kiss and slid his fingers through the wetness at the apex of her thighs. Her kiss deepened and grew greedy. With a nip at her bottom lip, he released her and slid away. It wasn’t any fun to win too quickly.

Panting, she caught herself against the door, turning to look at him with lust darkening her eyes. He smirked as he started stripping off the rest of his clothes, the heat spreading from his groin allowing him to ignore the chill in the air. He rolled the longjohns down over his hips, sitting on the edge of the bed to get them off his feet and then sliding under the heavy blankets to stay warm. He got comfortable, then started rubbing his cock with long strokes, watching her eyes follow the movement of his hand under the covers. She had to resist, that was the game tonight, but it was one she'd never won. It didn't appear as if Voeld’s frigid climate was cooling her ardor any, either.

He lazily ran his eyes over her in the classic look of imagining someone naked - which he was. With a growl, she peeled out of her underarmor, bra, and panties and joined him with a huff. “I'm going to sleep,” she announced, her back to him. It was a good try, at least. He chuckled and pulled her closer, her back to his front, kissing the nape of her neck. She was putting off body heat like a furnace, so he knew the goosebumps that rippled over her had nothing to do with the cold. “Can I touch you a little before you go to sleep?” They both knew what would happen if she said yes. She'd lose the game.

“Yes,” she whispered after a minute.

Reyes ran a hand down her outer thigh, then dragged his nails lightly along the inside as he brought it back up. She shuddered, then gasped as he brushed over her pussy. He caressed up her belly and around her breasts, rolled a pert nipple between his fingers, squeezing it as he bit the back of her neck. Her groan made his cock twitch, and he started to move against her, grinding against her ass.

Ryder whined his name and squirmed, torn between pressing herself more firmly against him and trying to pull herself away. “Do you want me to stop?” he murmured in her ear, nibbling the soft skin of her neck. She whimpered. “No, I want…” She broke off with a gasp as his nibble turned to another bite and he shifted his hand from playing with her nipples to slip between her thighs from behind. Slick wetness met his fingers, and he made a pleased rumble. He'd almost won their little game. A bit more should tip her over.

She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the sheets and making a noise of frustration in a half-hearted attempt to get away and prolong the inevitable. Of course, that only made it easier for him to slide two fingers into her. She held out a few minutes longer, panting and moaning, before she gave in.

“Fuck!” she hissed, slapping the bed. He leaned over to purr in her ear, pausing the movement of his fingers. “Something you want to say, _mi amor_?”

She growled, trying to resist a few more seconds even as she wiggled her hips, trying to create friction with his fingers still in her. Finally, she capitulated with a groan. “You win. Fuck me.”

By now his cock was throbbing with want, so he didn't bother to continue playing with her. He did debate briefly how he wanted to take her with her laying on her stomach like this: legs wide, so he could go deep, or together for the extra tightness? Climbing on top of her, he kneed her legs apart. After toying with her so long he'd finish too quickly if she was any tighter than she already was, and he wanted to take his time. It wasn't every day a man got a chance to fuck in the Resistance leader's bed. Evfra was, more often than not, a pain in the ass, and Reyes relished the idea of having something to amuse himself with the next time he had to deal with the angara.

She shuddered beneath him in a climax within a few hard strokes. He covered her mouth to muffle her cry and whispered, “We're not done yet.” She moaned, long and pleading, and writhed against him. It didn't surprise him that she'd finished so quickly. Her comfort with her body meant she took joy in sex and was a relatively easy person to satisfy physically, and after almost a year together, he'd figured out the psychological triggers to her orgasm: domination, rough treatment, and penetration. She liked to fight him, defy him, and then be taken by him. It complemented his wants perfectly. He liked to dominate and conquer, especially when the Charlatan was in him, and he enjoyed it more when he didn't have to be gentle about it.

Like now, as he thrust hard into her, the hand over her mouth forcing her head up and her back to arch. There was no artistry in his movements, only the driving pace of a man who’d been holding himself back for far longer than he’d wanted and finally given free rein. Her smothered cries and the sight of her fingers grasping the sheets until they pulled off one corner of the bed spurred him on.

 _She’s close…_ he thought, reading the growing tension in her body, seeing her brace against the headboard with one hand to give herself more leverage to push back. He released his grip on his own orgasm. _And...there_. With a last few strong thrusts, they came together, the bucking of her body his restricted by his weight atop her. 

He took his hand from her mouth but stayed where he was for another minute, kissing her neck and shoulders and using the heat of her body to keep himself warm. They both enjoyed the hints of domination in his keeping her pinned like this and with her weeks-long recovery after Meridian, he hadn’t done it in a long time. She wiggled beneath him, turned her head to the side, closed her eyes, and sighed contentedly. 

“So,” he murmured as he kissed along her jaw. “Isn’t Aya our next stop?”

Her eyes flew open and she looked at him sideways. He pretended not to notice, kissing her under the ear. “We’ll have to be sure to tell Evfra how comfortable -”

“Reyes!” she shouted, struggling. He laughed as he kept her where she was. “Reyes, _don’t you dare_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if Evfra needed another reason to be annoyed with either of these two...but Reyes is a discreet guy. Usually.
> 
> The other idea for this was trapped in the Nomad in an avalanche, but I couldn't get that where I wanted it.


	9. Tied Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder brings the Charlatan back to himself when he starts taking work too seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is a gratuitous smut chapter with BDSM and dark!Reyes. If that's not your thing, definitely skip this one.
> 
> Set shortly after the end of Whiskey and Secrets, but before the short story I'm writing for them now (Pocket Aces).

The late morning sun was pleasantly warm on Ryder’s skin as she strolled Kadara Port’s main market. She’d opted for a tank top today since she was finally getting her last check of the chest wound from the sniper’s bullet she’d taken a couple of weeks ago, and the kiss of the sun’s rays was rejuvenating. The bandages had come off and the stitches out last week, and Dr Nakamoto thought she was fine but didn’t want to clear her without a final look a week after getting the stitches removed. With plenty of rest and SAM speeding the process it had taken a fraction of the time it should have, but Ryder had sent the Tempest out for routine scouting missions anyway. It was quiet with the kett defeated - for now - and Scott and Cora could handle the frontier between the two of them. There was no need to tie up an entire Pathfinder team while she healed. 

A vibration at her wrist signalled an incoming call, and she frowned at the ID on her chiming omnitool. Keema was supposed to be with Reyes right now, interviewing yet another batch of Collective operatives. After two had gone bad, including one of his trusted lieutenants, Reyes was on a mission to clean house. She hadn’t seen him for longer than it took for him to shower, down a glass of whiskey, and catch three or four hours of sleep in two weeks. It was the Charlatan who came home these days, each day more tightly wound than the last. Up to now she’d been giving him space while her chest healed from the assassination attempt that was partially responsible for spurring his current obsession, but she was starting to worry. 

“Keema, how’s things?” she greeted the angaran woman when she accepted the call. “Ryder, you need to do something about Reyes,” her friend replied with none of her usual playful banter. Instead, her voice was harsh with concern. 

Ryder’s hackles went up. For all his charm and affability, Reyes was a dangerous man who could, and would, do bad things if he believed them necessary to achieve a good end. When it came to protecting either the Collective or her, the range of actions he might deem necessary became incredibly broad and increasingly criminal. “What happened?” she asked briskly. 

“He’s taking too much of a direct hand in all of this, forgetting that he needs to be Reyes Vidal, not the Charlatan, and nothing from Kian or I penetrates. He’s going to give the game away if he doesn’t stop.” That _would_ be trouble. Keeping his true role in the Collective secret was part of what gave Reyes an advantage and kept them all safe. Keema hadn’t quite answered the question though, and the Charlatan’s controlling side wasn’t usually cause for her to call Ryder about him. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ryder pushed. Keema sighed. “We found a few more traitors. Reyes has taken it upon himself to personally...interrogate them. All of them. For days.” It was Ryder’s turn to sigh and press two fingers into the middle of her forehead, where a headache was blossoming. That would explain his extra coldness lately; she'd assumed it was something along those lines but he'd been less than forthcoming when she asked him what he was up to these days. Less even than his usual.

She didn’t agree with his methods, but she wasn’t the top dog of an expanding criminal organization. Ryder had been aware of her boyfriend’s more frightening skills for a while now but Keema had recently admitted the extent of Reyes’ capability in that area, although apparently he didn’t enjoy it and left it to others when it was possible. For him to actively take a hand in it with Mantis was disturbing but, in her mind, understandable; his former lieutenant had not only betrayed the organization, but had also attempted to assassinate Ryder and come damn close to succeeding. The Charlatan’s protective streak had demanded retribution, in a way that would deter other attempts. But this he could easily leave to his lieutenants. _Should_ leave to his lieutenants, if he didn’t want to be caught out as the Charlatan. 

“So he needs a day off,” Ryder responded flatly. 

“We _all_ do. You know what he’s like when he’s the Charlatan - multiply it by ten when he’s working on a normal day, and one hundred for right now. He’s insufferable.”

“Let me think a second,” Ryder said, casting her mind back to previous instances when he’d been caught up in the Charlatan. There was the time she came back from battling the Architect, the time she’d come up to his private room right after he’d managed a gang war and successfully eliminated a target, her telling him she’d died on the Archon’s ship, a couple of instances on Meridian...and there were always two things that snapped him back to himself. Tying her up, and having a period of time where he was completely and unquestioningly in control of a situation, or caring for her. Usually after tying her up. She’d never used it as an intentional tactic, but didn’t think he’d mind if she initiated for once. “I have an idea. No guarantees, but it’s worked before.”

“Do I want to know?”

Ryder winced. “You really don’t.”

“Good luck then. Stay clear and strong.” Keema signed off, and Ryder turned her feet toward the slums. She’d be a little early for the doctor, but hopefully he could squeeze her in for a quick check and certify that she was physically ready to carry out her plan. 

Nakamoto was accommodating as ever and after a few tests, cleared her for active duty. She thanked him, transferred a generous donation to the clinic in lieu of the payments the doctor would never accept from her, and headed down to Tartarus’ lower level. 

Kian glanced up when she walked in, then looked again when he saw it was her. “Oh, thank fuck,” he said heavily, his Irish brogue thick and tired. He looked ragged around the edges, as though he’d been working non-stop for the last two weeks. Come to think of it, he probably had been. “Keema spoke to you?”

Was Reyes riding them that hard? “Yeah. I need into his toy room upstairs and I don’t know where the trigger is,” Ryder said. Kian’s eyes narrowed and his gaze became measuring, as if he hadn’t been aware that they were members of the same club. “Taking one for the team, hey? That’s grand. He’s been a right pain in the ass lately. Needs to blow off some steam and go down for a long bloody nap.” He came around the bar, shouting for one of the dancers to step in, and strode up the stairs. 

She was in and out quickly, already having thought about what she’d be willing to let Reyes try with her, and Kian gave her a small bag to carry it in. As she turned to go, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for this, duck,” he said in response to her startled look, heading back down the stairs while she was still blinking in confusion. She knew she wasn’t his type, but he hadn’t been quite as forwardly friendly before. It was an odd feeling to be on such familiar terms with more of his people than just Keema. Given that all of his people were criminals in some capacity, she wasn't sure that was a good thing.

On her way up to the apartment she shared with Reyes, she double-checked her feelings about doing this. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d played bondage games, or the first time she’d allowed him to use new toys. That aside, she always liked to sense-check herself and make sure she wasn’t simply giving in because he enjoyed it. Pleasure was a partnership, and that was a concept she wouldn't compromise on.

She entered the flat and leaned against the door when it closed, letting her mind drift over the idea of him tying her up and using the items she’d picked out: a light flogger, nipple clamps, a gag. Her mind ran with it, and she shivered in anticipation at the possibilities. He always took her to the edge, and it was thrilling. Yes, she wanted this, too. 

What about him? She’d have to evaluate his mood when he came home, but it sounded like he was very much in control, simply too much so, to the point of stressing his people out. She could verify for herself that he hadn’t taken a break in weeks and seemed to be caught in a loop. He couldn’t let himself relax because something might slip through, but the more he tried to control the situation the harder it was to let go of the Charlatan, which only strung him tighter and drove him to try taking greater control. Her usual tricks - walking around naked, double entendres, panties left in conspicuous places, teasing touches - had gotten nowhere. He was focused on his hunt, and she’d left him to it while she waited for her chest to heal.

Now she was back at full strength, and she was going to do something about the Charlatan.

***

Keema sent her a quick text to let her know Reyes was on his way, and Ryder was sprawled naked in the chair in front of his terminal when he got home. He eyed her head to toe, slowly and interestedly, but his voice was flat when he spoke. “I have work to do, Ryder.”

“You’ve been doing quite enough work lately, and you have blood on your face,” she replied in a similar tone, knowing it would bother the usually fastidiously clean man. Sure enough, he swiped at his cheek and scowled at the smear of red. As he walked to the bathroom he said over his shoulder, “You have until I get out of the shower to find a new chair.”

Of course she was still in it when he came out, drying his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist. It was her turn to look at him with interest, taking in his flat stomach and sculpted arms.

“Ryder…” he warned. 

“Reyes,” she threw back with a sassy side-to-side toss of her head on each syllable of his name. Sass _always_ goaded him when he was in this kind of mood. “What are you going to do? Punish me?”

His eyes flashed at the suggestion. “I might,” he said softly. “I just might.” 

She grinned and leaned back in the chair, spreading her legs in a wanton display. Charlatan or not, he was still human. His eyes followed her hand as she caressed up her thigh and started rubbing her clit. She closed her eyes and sighed out in a groan, hearing the soft pad of his footsteps as he came closer. When she opened her eyes again he was right in front of her, still watching, still controlled. Good. She trusted him to play tonight. 

He tipped her chin up with two fingers and she smirked at him. “Is that what you’re after?” he asked in the same dangerously soft tone, golden eyes boring into hers. “You’ll suffer longer than you usually do, and I’ll use you before I allow you finish.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, and she flicked her tongue out to lick it before replying.

“Good. Maybe you can use these?” She flicked his bare stomach lightly with the flogger and jingled the nipple clamps she’d been hiding behind her. His surprise and the growing hunger in his eyes were satisfying. “Naughty woman,” he growled. “Fine, we’ll play. But you’re going to wait for me to send a report, first. Patiently, and bound. Did Nakamoto sign you off?” 

Those were similar terms to a game they’d played before. Ryder’s breath caught in anticipation and she answered affirmatively as she stood. He kissed her, eyes open, before stepping back and pointing to the dinner table. “Kneel with your back to the back of one of the chairs,” he directed. She obeyed, watching him as he went into the bedroom and came out again with a smallish create she knew to contain a few of the heavier items she’d moved off the Tempest and the ropes he usually used to bind her. He set the crate on the chair - to weigh it down? - and demanded her safeword, looking down at her and idly running a length of rope through his hands. She told him. 

“Arms up,” he ordered. She lifted them, and he brought them around the back of the chair before cuffing her wrists together and securing them through the slat at the top. It didn’t seem uncomfortable until he told her to try escaping. The rigidity of the weighted chair and the curve of its back made it awkwardly difficult for her to move upward. The best she could manage was a higher kneel. With her wrists bound as they were she couldn’t slip them over to get free. When she settled on her heels, the position of her arms forced her to arch her back slightly, which, eventually, would get uncomfortable. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, he applied the nipple clamps. “Fuck, Reyes,” she gasped out at the pressure on sensitive skin. The first hint of a smile curled one corner of his lips. “Still feel like playing?” he taunted in a low voice.

She glared up at him, and he flicked her belly with the flogger. She jumped - or twitched more like, with the restrictions on her movement. “I asked you a question,” he prompted. 

“Yes, dammit,” she snapped. 

The hint of a smile grew. “Good. The quieter you are, the faster I can finish the report.”

For the first five minutes she waited patiently, as he’d directed. He hadn’t bothered getting dressed and was sitting in his chair, typing something on his terminal. Waiting wasn’t her strong suit though, especially when he was all but naked and distracted by work, and she couldn’t help but try again to escape again. She never managed it, but maybe he’d made a mistake this time. 

He hadn’t; he was the Charlatan, of course he hadn’t, and every movement swung the chain on the clamps, creating a not-unpleasant but definite tugging sensation. She subsided, panting, with a groan. This was not comfortable, which she suspected was part of the punishment. He spun his chair to look at her. “Is there a problem, Pathfinder?” 

She snarled at him. “Finish your fucking report.” He rose and approached, dealing her another flick of the flogger. She jerked. He was good, dealing out just the right mixture of pain and pleasure for her preferences, and she groaned again. “I give the orders here,” he reminded her with one more quick lash. Ryder glared up at him, panting, but said nothing. “Good,” he said, returning to his work. 

By the time he finished, her pants were punctuated with small whimpers and she was feeling somewhat less defiant. It wasn’t uncomfortable enough for her to use her safeword, but it would be before too much longer. She moaned when he untied her wrists from the chair and pulled them over, leaning forward to rest with her forehead on the floor. When she looked up, rolling her shoulders, he was carrying another chair over. Setting it in front of her, he dropped the towel to reveal himself already hard and sat in the edge of the seat.

Without a word, he grasped a handful of her hair and used it to position her head over his cock. “Keep your hands where they are, unless you're tapping out, or you'll get a lash,” he told her. “Understood?” She had just enough time to say yes before he filled her mouth with his length. She swallowed reflexively as he pressed to the back of her throat, then struggled a moment when he held her there. He let her up just enough to gasp a breath right before she decided to tap, then pulled her back down. She didn’t have time for skilled applications of her tongue as he alternated at random between fast movements and long holds until he came, shooting his release straight down her throat. It had been awhile since he'd indulged himself, and there was a lot of it. She struggled to swallow quickly enough.

With a satisfied groan he let her go, leaning back to study her with heavy-lidded eyes as she sat back on her heels and caught her breath. He'd warned her he would use her, and he hadn't lied. Frustrated wetness dampened her labia and thighs. She was enjoying both trying to defy him and the temporary loss of control, but she wanted to _come_ , damn him. 

As if he'd read her mind, he leaned forward and brushed the lips of her pussy. “I like seeing you like this,” he murmured into her ear as his fingers moved against her. Ryder snarled and tried to press herself down on his fingers, but he jerked the chain on the clamps. She yelped and tried to stay still as he teased her, slipping along the outside of her pussy but not penetrating, fingers swirling around her clit but not quite touching it.

“Suffering?” she whined, wishing those long, clever fingers would dip inside her. The Charlatan snorted a laugh. “Tied up and waiting. Completely at my disposal, a little ruined, and still wanting more.”

She really, really did want more. “I do! Please, Reyes, I want you to fuck me,” she pleaded, turning her head to nibble his earlobe. He tugged the chain again and she gasped, leaning forward as he sat back in an attempt to relieve the pull of the clamps on her nipples. The Charlatan watched her whimper and quiver for a moment longer before releasing the tension. “You’ll have more,” he promised, “but not yet. First…”

Standing, he grasped her by the hair and indicated she should stand. “Bedroom,” he ordered, flicking the flogger at her ass to speed her on her way. “Lay on your back on the bed, head over the side,” was his next command. She did as he said, knowing where this was going and opening her mouth as he approached. “Good,” he purred, sliding his cock between her lips. He hadn’t entirely recovered, but he was halfway there. “Work,” he ordered. Ryder sucked in, her cheeks hollowing, and she created a suction and her tongue swirled around the tip. 

With varied movements of lips, tongue, and throat she got him hard again, using the sounds of pleasure he made to guide her. As soon as he was ready he took over with long thrusts, holding the chain of the nipple clamps straight up to create a constant tug. “Touch yourself,” he growled. It was awkward with her hands still bound, but she managed it, moaning around his cock at the combined sensations emanating from her clit, nipples, and mouth. Her orgasm hovered just beyond reach and the feeling of frustration was overwhelming; she tried to cry out but only gurgled around another deep push of his cock. 

Again he used her, emptying himself down her throat without bringing her to orgasm. Swallowing was even more difficult upside down, and she coughed when he withdrew, eyes tearing slightly. If she looked a little ruined before, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what she looked like now. 

When she had her breathing more or less under control she looked up to see him, smirking down at her, the pleased jackal’s grin saying he _still_ wasn’t finished with her. “Reyes, please…” she moaned. The smirk grew to a full-blown smile. “Unless you want to use your safeword, you’ll be begging a while longer.” When she said nothing, he bodily shifted her up on the bed, spreading her legs and strapping her ankles into the cuffs he’d attached to the foot of the bed on her last visit before moving to Kadara full time. Her wrists were uncuffed from each other, but secured in matching restraints at the head of the bed so that she was spread-eagle. A gag and blindfold completed the setup, and she practically screamed in relief as he removed the nipple clamps.

This was a game Ryder was familiar with, and it always maxed out her sexual frustration. The fact that he had more toys at his disposal only made it worse. The small sting of the flogger and the buzzing stimulation of a vibrator mingled with pinches and bites to draw a symphony of sounds from her, half-muffled by the gag. She couldn’t even beg him to fuck her, although she tried. He pushed her hard, then backed off, disappearing for minutes at a time as she strained to hear where he was while blindfolded, only for him to return and torment her further. His games were psychological as well as physical and even as her mind raced, her nipples ached, her pussy dripped, her skin tingled, and she bucked in the restraints, trying to free herself and get at him. 

Finally, when she was reduced to shivers and thwarted sobs, she felt his full weight on the bed between her legs. He hadn't pushed her to the point of tapping out, but her body ached for release. She was afraid to hope that he’d finally fuck her, but his weight shifted to lean overtop of her and he slammed his cock home in her. She arched up, screaming behind the gag, as he took her, driving forcefully as her climax rose. She started trying to plead, frantic that he not cut her off this time, and he chuckled. “It’s your turn, don’t worry,” he growled into her ear. Her wordless pleas turned to gratitude as she climbed the peak of her orgasm, and...there. 

The restraints went taut as she tried to embrace him, pull him deeper into her. He obliged her, keeping himself buried in her core and grinding his hips into her. Satisfaction rolled over her in intense waves, all the greater for being so long delayed, and he grunted as her inner muscles clenched tight around him, released, clenched again. He pumped a few more times, then came himself with a low roar. When he was finished, he kissed her cheek and started undoing the cuffs. 

Ryder lay trembling as he gently released her ankles, then her wrists, then removed the blindfold and gag. The Charlatan was gone; Reyes was looking down at her with tenderness as he massaged first one wrist, then the other. 

“Are you okay, _mi amor_?” he asked softly. She groaned, curling into a ball, and he ran massaging hands down her legs, checking for the heat of a strain and ensuring good circulation. “Ryder?” he prompted, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“I’m good,” she breathed. And she was. Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, as she always was when she played the Charlatan’s games, but it was the kind of exhaustion that let a person wake up completely fresh once they’d rested. 

Reyes’ hands didn’t stop moving on her. “What do you need?” he asked. 

It was her turn to be demanding now, to give the orders, but words escaped her. She pulled him down next to her and wrapped arms and legs around him. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and let her cling to him as he ran a hand up and down her spine. She didn’t know _why_ she needed to do it, only that whenever he made her _feel_ that much, she needed to know that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. He hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and soothing her along with the strokes of his hands. 

After a few minutes she sat up shakily, balancing with hands on his chest. “I want water. And whiskey. And then more cuddles,” she ordered hoarsely. Reyes smiled up at her, cupping her face and rubbing a thumb along her cheek fondly. “Your wish is my command, _mi amor_.” She got off of him so he could slip out of bed and fetch the required items, huddling contentedly under the blankets. He was himself again. Her plan had worked, and from the relaxed set of his face they were both satisfied. 

He returned quickly, and she downed the water before holding the glass out for whiskey. He poured for her, then for himself, and set the bottle on her side of the bed before coming around and sitting alongside her. She rested her glass on her thigh as she turned into him, with his free arm curving over her shoulders and holding her close. They sipped together in silence as the whiskey settled the last of Ryder’s shakes. The alcohol burned in her throat and she knew it, along with the rest of her, would be sore tomorrow. 

“Was that too much?” Reyes murmured into her hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever pushed you that hard before.”

Ryder smiled into his chest. “It was just enough. I would have tapped out or used my word if it was too much. It’ll be awhile before I’m up for more of that again, though.” She liked the Charlatan’s games, but they were too intense for her to want to play all the time. 

The arm over her shoulder squeezed, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. “Thank you. I needed that. Everything was starting to...consume me. I couldn’t find the way out of it.”

She tilted her head up to kiss his neck, then the corner of his jaw, then, as he turned toward her, his lips. “I know,” she murmured against them. “But I’m the Pathfinder. You’ll never be lost as long as you’re with me.”

That struck a nerve in him, because he tossed back his whiskey, set the glass aside, and wrapped both arms around her in a bear hug. She lifted her glass, trying not to let her drink slosh over the side, and enjoyed the strength of his arms. She might light his path, but he anchored her, made her feel like she finally had a home, something real to fight for - and someone who would fight for _her_. As long as they had each other, they would be okay. Broken and jagged in their own ways, but whole together.

***

For the first time in weeks, Ryder woke in Reyes’ embrace. It was rare for him to sleep late as it was, but he’d been up and out of the flat well before she’d awakened recently, on a mission to clean up his organization. Exhaustion must have claimed him, too. 

Smiling, she snuggled back into him. He made a sleepy, pleased sound, and his arms tightened to hold her closer. She went back to sleep. 

His startled jump she didn’t know how long later was a rude awakening, and she flared biotically before realizing there was nothing to fight. “Reyeeeessss,” she complained, flopping back down into bed. 

“Shit, what time is it? I’m late,” he grumbled, starting to get up. Ryder rolled over and straddled him, leaning her weight into his shoulders in an attempt to make a point. “It’s time to take a day off,” she said sternly. “Keema can handle her shit, that’s why you put her in charge. _Take a day off_ ,” she repeated as he scowled up at her. They locked eyes. For once, he looked away first, rolling his. “Fine,” he huffed, although there was a hint of relief in his face, as though he'd wanted an excuse to take a holiday and a demanding Pathfinder girlfriend was the perfect reason. She grinned. If it meant spending the day with him, she was happy to be his excuse.

Reyes was clattering about in the kitchen making breakfast when her omnitool pinged with two incoming messages. The first was from Kian:

 

_< Well done, duck. Drinks on the house the next time you're in.  >_

 

Reyes must have sent orders for the day. She grinned, planning to take full advantage of Kian's offer. The second message was from Keema:

 

_< If I'd known you were a miracle worker, I would have asked for an even bigger favor. _

 

_I don't know if humans pair bond for life, but you're good for him. I only hope he's as good for you. >_

 

Ryder dropped back into the pillows, suddenly pensive. She was content with their relationship as it was now, but did she want more one day? Did he? It seemed like it hadn't been long enough to decide on that, but they'd been through more in a year than most couples went through in a lifetime. Surely that was the true measure? She certainly couldn't see herself this happy with anyone else.

“ _Amor_!” Reyes shouted from the other room. “It's on the table in two minutes.”

She shelved the thought for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a crappy week and wrote this to console myself.


	10. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes gets some tough love and discovers the beginnings of the Charlatan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Alcohol as a coping mechanism, brief mentions of torture. 
> 
> Continues the storyline from Ch 3 (Darkness on Omega). This is my submission for the Reyes Weekly Prompt, #1: "I don't want to go home."

“Vidal.”

Someone was shaking him, jostling his arm. He resolved to ignore them and go back to sleep.

“ _Vidal_ ,” they hissed, and the shaking became a solid thunk on the head that startled him enough to fall off the bench he'd passed out on. 

Blearily, he sat up, rubbing his head. The floor was sticky with spilled booze, the grime easier to see now that the lights were up in the club. “Fuck,” he mumbled. He squinted one eye shut to avoid seeing two of Ilara; the asari barmaid who'd thumped him was standing over him with hands on her hips with a look of stark disapproval on her face.

“Go home,” she said sternly. “The bar’s closing and you know what Anto or Decimus will do if they catch you here like that. If I find out who gave you more whiskey after I cut you off -” she didn't finish her sentence as she slapped his hand away from its reach for the half-full glass up on the table. 

Reyes scowled at her. “I don't want to go home. I want to…” What had he been trying to do? Oh, that’s right. “I want to forget.”

Ilara scoffed, the noise dripping with disgust, and shook her head. “This is just pathetic,” she sneered. Reyes felt like she'd hit him, and he opened his mouth to tell her to go fuck herself, only to be steamrolled. “What, Decimus has you torturing people again? _Deal with it_. You're not a good person, Vidal, if you ever were. Very few people on Omega are, and this ‘poor me’ bullshit will get you nowhere.” 

She studied him as he sat on the floor with his mouth open, gears drunkenly turning in his head, wondering when she’d gotten to know him so well. Probably while he’d been drinking all those glasses of whiskey in the lower levels of Afterlife over the last few months, trying to wash away the memories of fingernails pulled from their beds, plates peeled from skin, mandibles ripped away, bones broken. Decimus was determined to be thorough in Reyes’ education in the finer points of torture, especially since Reyes was desperate not to participate in it. 

Ilara let him mull over that for a moment before continuing. “You had a spark when you got here, Vidal. But now? Now you're on the fast track to becoming just another drunk who will end up dead in an alley.”

_Like my father_ , he realized with horror. _I'm turning into my father_. It was the one thing he'd sworn he would never do, and anger - at himself, at her for throwing it in his face, at that sadistic bastard Decimus, at Omega in general - coiled in his gut, cutting through the alcohol. Ilara’s full lips quirked in a grin as he snarled. “Better,” she said at whatever his expression was telling her. 

Then she bent over and slapped him. Hard.

His head rocked to the side, anger boiling into rage. It was enough that he had to take that kind of shit from Decimus; he wasn’t taking it from her. He staggered to his feet, only for his face to whip to the other side as she backhanded him, putting her whole body behind it. 

“Fuck!” he roared, trying and failing to catch her wrist on the third slap, his reflexes slowed by drink. He stepped to the side, out of her reach. “What the hell, Ilara?” 

She smirked. “The first one was to wake you up. The second was to get your attention. The third was because you're keeping me here late explaining shit I've already told you: get off Omega, become the kind of person who can manage their shit, or die. And if you choose the third option, take your sorry carcass out of this bar to do it because I have enough to deal with without having to drag you outside for the varren to scavenge.” 

He glared at her, face stinging and shaking with fury but determined not to truly become his father by giving her a throttling and physically teaching her not to hit him again. _No. Don't be him. Be a better man than he was. Control yourself_. With effort, he strangled his temper, choking down bile as mental clarity brought with it the memories of the screams he'd wrenched from his victims earlier that night as Decimus watched. She watched him struggle to master himself, finally quiet. 

Finally, he found a coldness in himself, a balance between rage and control that allowed him to focus on this moment, the brutal logic and vicious truth of her words. She was right, painful as it was to admit. He'd been full of fire when he arrived on Omega, certain that there would be opportunities for a bright person who wasn't afraid to step outside the lines. Opportunities to make his mark, to _be_ someone. What he hadn't realized was that there were no lines on Omega, and whatever he'd thought he’d learned about gangs during his childhood had been small-time foolery compared to the daily depravities of life on a station run by beings utterly without a moral code. 

The asari nodded slowly as he calmed. “Whatever place you've just found is going to keep you alive on Omega. Practice it until you become it.” She turned to walk away, taking his unfinished glass of whiskey with her, and Reyes pulled his newfound distance around him like a cloak. He was nowhere near sober, but some of the fog around his mind had lifted. 

“Ilara,” he said to her back. She stopped, looked over her shoulder. “Thank you.” He heard the lack of emotion in his voice and felt like it should have been frightening, but if anything, she seemed to approve. She nodded. "It's all about choices, Vidal. Make better ones." Dumping his glass, she went back to cleaning up the bar. 

Reyes still didn’t want to go home so he wandered the station’s dark corridors, pulling together the first elements of a plan. Ilara’s intervention had made it clear that this situation was insupportable, and he wondered where he’d lost his way and fallen into a bottle. 

There was only one remedy. If he couldn’t live with Decimus and couldn’t escape him, he’d have to kill both the turian and his batarian second and move up the chain. Quietly, cleverly, so that no-one knew he was behind the deaths, much like he’d arranged for his bully’s gang to find out the other boy had been stealing from them when he was a teenager. A small part of him rebelled at the idea of cold-blooded murder, but the new mantle of cold practicality made it easier to push it aside. 

He was nobody’s whipping boy, and he would _never_ become his father. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed Whiskey and Secrets, [Ch 6 (Fighter)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11049426/chapters/24759117) covers why he hates his father.


	11. Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes gives Ryder all the trouble she seems to be looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickie set between Looking for Trouble and Whiskey and Secrets.

When Ryder entered his private room in Tartarus, Reyes saw the stalk in her step, sensed a wildness beyond her usual eagerness for him. His hackles went up. Normally he was the aggressor between them, but there was something dangerous about her today. He immediately went on alert, watching her carefully. 

“Pathfinder,” he greeted her neutrally, trying to get a sense of where her head was at. She was dripping wet in her civvies, apparently having been caught in the autumn storm howling through port.

She cocked her head and licked her lips. “Reyes,” she replied less neutrally, the heat in her voice making his cock stir. Slowly, cautiously, lest he set off whatever powderkeg was in her today, he rose. She grinned, turquoise eyes flashing like the lightning he could hear thundering in the storm outside, and took a step closer. He often thought of her as a little leopard, an ambush predator that could take down prey larger than herself when the opportunity presented itself, but he'd never felt himself the prey before. He was accustomed to being in charge, the apex predator, but here she was, putting him on edge in a way that was surprisingly arousing. He'd never met someone, man or woman, who could match him like this, make him feel the kind of frightened thrill he knew he gave others.

It turned him on immensely. Mastering her now would be...beyond satisfying. He felt his own beast rise, a jackal to challenge her leopard. She recognized it the moment it happened and threw back her head, her throaty chuckle sounding delighted.

“Charlatan, now,” she corrected herself. And she was right; he was the Charlatan now, although he didn't know how she knew. “Shall we dance?” she invited him in a whisper. 

He didn't answer. He just rushed her, grasping nothing but air as she spun away, leaping onto one of the tables to take the high ground, slipping slightly in her wet boots. A leopard, indeed...but leopards weren't the only predators who punched above their weight class. Her lunged for her ankle.

In a flash of blue she was gone. _Shit._ He whirled, knowing that she often used a biotic blink to position herself behind her enemies in combat.

She wasn't behind him, but to the side. His ankles clicked together and he went down, the weight of her atop him pressing him into the floor. Her wet clothes dampened his own as she nipped at one of the pulse points in his neck. “Got ya,” she snarled. 

Lightning quick, he grasped her throat. “And now I've got _you_.”

He used his superior strength and the leverage of the grip on her throat to push her up and roll her onto her back, both of them panting in lust and exertion. She laughed as he pinned her, dark and wild, and his cock throbbed with wanting to fuck her. Her eyes challenged him and she tried to fight him, so he pressed harder. He _would_ master the Pathfinder.

Finally she subsided with a growl, fingers working at his trousers. He let her, pleased that she wanted him and seemed to enjoy this roughness, and shifted his hips to help her slip his trousers down until his cock sprang free. With quick jerks he undid her trousers and yanked them down, releasing her throat to pull them all the way off, then pinning her wrists over her head as he kissed her roughly. She moaned and arched up into him, hands reaching for his hard length.

Thunder rumbled outside as he took her, thrusting in as she bucked upwards to welcome him. His growl of delight blended with her scream of pleasure and he fucked her, hard, driving her against the floor. She struggled against his hold on her wrists but he held fast, biting her throat to admonish her. She bit him back, her surprisingly sharp little canines catching him in the shoulder at just the right angle to hurt. He groaned and pounded into her even more forcefully, the pain driving him on.

Reyes knew when her orgasm was rising, he always did. He'd studied her carefully while trying to win her over and in the few fucks they'd had up to now, cataloging every hint and tell. She was close, so he bit her nipple, hard, through her shirt.

It sent her over the edge, her heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper as she cried out his name and threw her head back in ecstasy. He sucked on her neck to claim her before allowing himself to release. 

When they'd both shuddered their last, she looked up at him and bit her bottom lip. “A woman could get used to being fucked like that,” she said huskily.

He chuckled low in his throat, his pleasure immense at having mastered the Pathfinder once more. “A man could get used to doing it.”

Reyes kissed her deeply, claiming her mouth with the same passion he'd just had in claiming her pussy. He hadn't thought he'd ever fall in love, but Ryder made all kinds of things possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently thunderstorms + wine + music = this?


	12. Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes sees Ryder in a way he'll remember forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Submission for Reyes Vidal Weekly Prompt #2: Moments in Time.
> 
> Smut.

Reyes was a tidy man, neat and organized. Everything in his life had its place, every action was carefully planned. He had a temper, but it was expressed infrequently and usually coldly. Control was something he'd learned the hard, painful way and he was reluctant to let go of it.

The love of his life was the opposite, a whirlwind made flesh, quick and furious in her movements with a temper to match. Ryder was like a fire tornado, unpredictable and certain to burn you to a crisp if you were unfortunate enough to be in her path when she blew through.

Unless she was sleeping.

Then, and only then, did the whirlwind quiet. Her animated features slacked, restless action became an almost frightening stillness. Compared to him she slept long and deeply, gifting him with moments like this just to watch her, engraving the peaceful scene in his memory.

On this particular occasion, he'd come home to their apartment in port tired and frustrated. The Tempest had docked hours ago but a stubborn buyer had kept him at business far longer than expected. He wasn't quite sure what he was in the mood for, but it wasn't Ryder's habit of leaving her armor littered around the house wherever she'd happened to be when she decided to take it off - which was usually _not_ the armor locker he'd had installed for that specific reason.

He'd called her name, assuming she was drafting reports in bed again when he didn't see her in the living area. The sight that greeted him on entering the bedroom wasn't quite what he'd been expecting, but it was definitely one to add to the collection of treasured little moments in daily life, a collection that was growing rapidly now that she had moved to Kadara.

“Bed hog” was a phrase that might well have been invented for Lazuli Ryder, and she was demonstrating the why of it now in the most attractive way possible. She sprawled naked on her belly across the large bed as if she'd simply thrown herself on it after stripping. Her right arm hung over the side, the other was flung overhead. Her left leg was outstretched to the corner and the right was bent, providing the most enticing view between them.

His frustration with his client and annoyance with the scattered armor vanished as he drank in the sight of her. Seeing her spread open like that inspired all kinds of ideas for how to wake her up, but if she was unconscious she couldn't give consent for them. That was important to Reyes, so he came around the side of the bed and carefully perched on the edge next to her, framed by the arm hanging off the bed and her bent knee. Pulling his gloves off and setting them neatly aside, he murmured her name, repeating it when she didn't respond.

With a grunt, Ryder startled awake with the smallest flash of biotic blue, eyes unfocused and...was that drool on her chin? He stared for a moment, then started chuckling. “Are you drooling?” he asked playfully. She blinked at him, rubbed her face, put her hand palm-down on the bed - presumably over the wet spot she'd made - and rested her head on the back of it. “No,” she insisted in a sleepy growl. “How long have you been home?”

Reyes laughed again at her attempts to hide it. “I'm going to remember this forever.” Her scowl only made him laugh harder, especially when she tried to bump him off the edge of the bed with her hip. He was bigger than her and had his feet anchored to the floor, so all she managed to do was jostle him a bit.

With a snarled groan, she turned away from him and buried her head under the pillow. “Awww. Does that mean I can't join you in bed?” he teased, running a finger down her spine. 

“No! Only _nice_ men get to join me!” she threw back, wiggling to dislodge his finger, her shout muffled by the pillow. Reyes grinned. That meant a game of resistance, one of his favorites. “Well. I'm _not_ a very nice man, so I guess I'll have to excuse myself.”

He got up and started pulling off his clothes, taking the time to hang them up or put them in the hamper for washing as needed. He stretched once he was naked, groaning in pleasure as tendons popped. When he glanced at the bed she was watching him from under the pillow, turquoise eyes bright as they focused on his stiffening cock. She closed them and pretended to sleep when she realized he'd caught her looking.

“See something you like?” he purred. 

“No!” she insisted unconvincingly, eyes still closed. Her little squirm confirmed the lie. It was her habit to jump him when she came home from a mission, but usually he was home and waiting. This situation presented a conundrum for her: did she go after what she wanted, or play the game she'd started? She’d probably try for the latter, stubborn as she was, but Reyes knew for a fact that he could be convincing - especially where Ryder was concerned.

“Shame,” he mock-pouted. “I guess there's always the shower.” He ignored the shift of the pillow indicating her lifted head as he stepped into the bathroom. She knew, because he'd done it before, that he had no problem satisfying himself if it gave him the upper hand in one of their games. It always meant she'd wait longer and he'd get double the pleasure. If she wanted him, she'd have to come get him now or wait another half hour, during which he'd joyfully push every single one of her sexual buttons in the combination most likely to frustrate her.

Hot water sprayed as he turned the shower on and stepped in, wondering whether she'd join him. It wasn't long before he had his answer as she peeked around the door frame. Her eyes traveled over him, and he couldn't help preening a little as he rinsed the soap off; he liked being looked at and appreciated. She bit her lip as he started stroking his cock, and took a step into the bathroom. 

With a sly smile, Reyes made a noise of negation. “I'm afraid the shower is full. You'll have to wait your turn.” Ryder stopped in her advance and scowled furiously. He started to chuckle, until her eyes narrowed and her lips curled up in a cat-like smirk. Without an argument, she left. _Shit. What is she planning?_ Reyes wondered. She never just gave up; it wasn't in her to let something go without a fight.

He found out when his gloriously hot shower suddenly ran ice cold. Howling at the frigid assault, he jumped out, only pausing to turn off the water as her bright peals of laughter sounded from the closet where the flat’s various climate control settings were. Her sentinel profile meant she was a trained engineer as well as a biotic, and well-versed in technical sabotage - a fact he had failed to recall until just then.

Cursing colorfully under his breath in Spanish, he stalked out of the bathroom to catch her slipping out of the closet. Her eyes widened at the thunderous look he knew he was wearing. It was rare for someone to get the advantage of him in business or pleasure, and he always corrected the lapse. He also _hated_ being cold. She was going to get it.

At the sight of her large, wet, scowling boyfriend approaching, Ryder started backing away. She smirked though, completely unafraid and apparently feeling feisty now that she was awake. “You're getting water everywhere,” she teased, knowing it would get under his skin.

Reyes lunged for her, and she laughed as she darted away. So. Not a game of resistance. A chase. 

She led him all through the house, evading him until he vaulted over the sofa and snagged her from behind. She gave a token struggle when he pulled her against himself, breathless from exertion and laughter, and he smiled as he lifted her off her feet. It felt good to have her in his arms. 

“You're mine now. I'll never let you go,” he growled, kissing her neck. She wiggled her hips against him. “Never? I'm sure we can come to some agreement…” Her hand slipped between them to grasp his cock and she rubbed the head with her thumb. 

“Mmmm…” he hummed with pleasure, fondling one of her breasts. This was very nice. “I’m reasonable man. Negotiations are always possible.”

She shifted in his embrace, turning to kiss him passionately without stopping the movement of her thumb. This was how she usually was when she came home, lusty and forward. 

“I want you,” she breathed against his mouth. Reyes didn't need any further encouragement, tweaking a nipple to make her gasp before hauling her around and bending her over the arm of the couch. He wasn't particularly gentle about it and she grunted, then chuckled low in her throat. “Come on then, Vidal,” she challenged him huskily. “Give it to me.”

And that right there was one of the reasons he loved her. They had their games but when it came down to it, she wanted what he wanted, exactly the way he wanted it. 

He slipped his fingers along her opening, finding her wet. Perfect. Holding her hip with one hand and pinning the back of her neck down with the other, he slid smoothly into her. She groaned as he ground against her, trying to reach her core, and he leaned over to growl in her ear. “You like this?”

“Yes,” she panted, pushing back against him and swiveling her hips to give truth to her words. He knew he was well-endowed, and her efforts to fit all of him inside her were almost enough to tip him over the edge as her inner walls gripped and stimulated every inch of him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, drawing back to slam into her again.

“Yeah. Harder,” she agreed. 

This woman.

He did as she ordered. Lost himself in powerful thrusts deep into her, physically reconnecting after her weeks away. She was _his_...and he was _hers_ , as tied to her as he imagined - hoped - she was to him. There was no escaping or pretending otherwise; Reyes Vidal was tamed.

Absurdly, he wanted to punish her for it. He was a born opportunist, always seeking out and taking the best option. Not only that, but always looking for _better_ options. Yet here she was, the best option, bent in front of him, submitting to him and taking everything he could push into her. The more he tried to punish her, the louder she screamed his name, the harder her nails dug into him where she reached back to grab his hips. 

_She is the best there is._

The realisation tumbled over him as he shifted his grip from neck to her hair, twisted his wrist and pulled, savagely forcing her to arch upwards. She snarled out, “ _Fuck_ , Reyes,” but obeyed the physical demand, releasing his hips to press her hands into the seat of the sofa for balance and leverage.

Ryder, the human Pathfinder, was the best there was. _And she was his._

Triumph soared through him at the thought. In a small way, this made him _someone_ , if only in that he was the man who could make the Pathfinder cry out in dark pleasure. 

Fortunately, something about the angle helped her find her orgasm because his crashed through him before he'd realised it was coming. They finished together, her scream blending with his roar to create a symphony of pleasure between wild things. 

Reyes indulged himself in resting against her back for a minute when they were done. Ryder shivered and shifted against him with a deep groan; she'd always enjoyed it when he physically covered her. 

He kissed the nape of her neck before rising and pulling out. She pushed herself up, not needing the help he was ready to offer, and threw her arms over his shoulders.

“I missed you,” she said with a nibble at his earlobe that had him calculating how quickly he could be ready for round two and planning where it would happen.

“I missed you too,” he purred as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, still in awe at the idea that he was hers, and no-one else’s.

Definitely a moment he'd remember forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone making playlists, the song on repeat was "Mi Gente" by J Balvin.


	13. Return to the Nexus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time Reyes saw the Nexus was in his aft sensors as he piloted a shuttle away after the Uprising. His return after two years brings memories he'd rather forget, but Ryder is determined to help him make new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut.

Reyes hadn't seen the Nexus in almost two years. When he'd left along with the other exiles, it had been partially in ruin from colliding with the Scourge, and what hadn't been destroyed then had been helped on its way during the Uprising. 

He'd been awakened in the second wave when they needed skilled pilots and mechanics to carry out Addison’s plan to check the other golden worlds. He was pilot, mechanic, and fighter rolled into one, with Alliance training, so he'd been at the top of the list for her mission. Like the rest, his expedition had found nothing but hazards and toxic planets where the Initiative had promised greenery and opportunity. 

To return and discover the extent to which Tann and Addison had let things degrade in the weeks they'd been away was demoralizing. When the shit had hit the fan he'd made his way to the hangar and bunkered down in a shuttle with a pistol that he'd conveniently forgotten to return. Whichever side won would need skilled pilots, and he was a survivor. One way or another, he'd see himself out of the ruins of the Andromeda Initiative. 

As much as Sloane had been his enemy on Kadara she'd been principled once, the most level-headed and down-to-earth of the leadership trio, and he'd admired her enough to leave the Nexus when she'd spoken for those who had rebelled. At the time he'd thought it couldn't be any worse than having leaders who outright lied to people and then set the krogan on them.

It was difficult to remember those days. The starvation, the fear, the ever-increasing feeling that the next accident or disaster would be the one that killed them all - and there were constantly new accidents and disasters. Ryder sensed his tension as they walked through the corridors; he could tell by the way she kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn't say anything, probably knowing him well enough by now to know that he’d slipped into the Charlatan and what that meant: that he wasn't going to talk about it.

With the Hyperion crashed on Meridian, she'd been assigned new quarters above Hydroponics for her visits to the Nexus. This area had been barren when last he'd seen it, and then set afire by Callix’ people. To see it verdant and flourishing was shocking enough that he stopped dead and stared. This was what it was supposed to have looked like when they arrived? This greenery and light, that everyone passed by without thought, taking it for granted as a thing that simply was? 

Ryder waited patiently as he took it all in, watching him. The flourishing plants, the simulated light of sunset, the sufficiently-nourished people chatting amicably in small groups. There was no fear, no hunger. This is what they had been promised when they went to sleep, what many of the exiles had been awakened to enable, working literally day and night trying to accomplish. Now, most of his people would never see it, never know what the work they had put in had grown into, because they had had enough pride to reject the false choice that Tann and Addison had offered after sending Spender to unleash Morda. Because they had chosen exile with Sloane rather than a return to cryosleep.

“Reyes,” Ryder said warningly as she stepped in front of him. He realized that he was snarling, fists clenched. The exiles had worked _hard_ for all of this and, as evidenced by Tann’s recent PSA, were now considered dangerous criminals who would never taste or even see the fruits of their labor without a rigorous screening process - and that only because he'd won the Pathfinder over by dumb luck and successfully negotiated limited access for non-violent exiles after leading his people back to fight at Meridian.

Arms slipped around him and Ryder pressed herself to him. Startled, he looked down as he automatically returned her embrace. Public shows of affection were very much not her thing - sober, anyway - and this would mark the first time they'd been openly affectionate in public. “I'm sorry,” she whispered into his neck. “I forgot that you arrived on the Nexus. It was a mess when I got here, but I can't imagine what it was like when you left.” Reyes closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply to take in her orange flower and amber scent as he tightened his hold on her. It calmed him, as it always did. “Let's go,” he murmured, still angry but feeling more objective.

Without a word, she stepped away but kept a firm grip on his hand. He appreciated it; he needed her to be his anchor today. When she'd proposed putting the new alliance between the Collective and the Initiative to the test with a trip to the Nexus he'd jumped at the opportunity. Having access to the Nexus was a large part of the reason for negotiating a deal with the Initiative leadership in the first place. He just hadn't realized how much it would cost him personally to return.

He focused on the feeling of his hand in hers, the way people stepped out of their path as they approached. She was respected here despite her unconventional approach to pretty much everything, with people of all races greeting her with salutes or nods or respectful acknowledgments of, “Pathfinder.” He was included in those by virtue of their joined hands. A few of the looks were questioning, but none were hostile or disapproving. She was _someone_ , and therefore so was he. Without knowing him or his history, they afforded him the same respect because the Pathfinder was holding his hand. He didn't know whether to feel triumphant or infuriated.

Finally, they reached her new apartments. He slumped against the door when it shut, processing everything he'd seen, the changes in the station between the time he'd left and now. Ryder crashed around in the kitchenette, opening and closing cupboards until she said, “Aha!” and he'd a bottle aloft. He didn't react, too lost in the Charlatan's distance to care about whiskey for once. Ryder had enabled all the changes he'd seen. Maybe she hadn’t personally gotten the Hyperion here to start the process, but she'd found and returned the arks Natanus, Leusinia, and Paarchero. She'd brought everyone together, including the Collective and the angara, even dragging the krogan back into the fold. Morda, of all people, had found her worthy of negotiating with when she'd rejected the Nexus leaders. 

Ryder was the key to everything. The Initiative, and even the Resistance and the Collective, looked to her to solve the most difficult issues. And she did, maybe with a sigh or a tantrum after the comm channel was closed, but she got the job done, usually even more efficiently or successfully than asked. And she was Reyes’ to influence...and more.

He accepted the tumbler of whiskey she handed him, eyes locked on hers as she toasted them with a simple, “Cheers,” before they both tossed their drinks back. Lost in his thoughts, he responded with, “ _Salud_ ,” but the sentiment was the same. They tipped their heads back and swallowed.

When the glasses were empty, he took both and set them aside before pulling her to him and kissing her roughly. She made a small noise of surprise before melting into him, surrendering herself to his lips and tongue. In a smooth movement, he spun them, then spun her again so that her front thumped against the door while he pinned her wrists over her head from behind. Her gasp of surprise and struggles to take her wrists back made him even harder. 

“Reyes, please,” she panted. Oh yes, this would definitely do for the Charlatan, having the Pathfinder beg for him on the Nexus - the seat of power he'd been ejected from, that served as the basis for hers.

“Please, what?” he growled, biting her neck sharply. She jerked as his teeth claimed her, moaning and grinding her ass against him. “Ahhh! I need you. I want you.”

Shifting his grip so that he could hold both wrists in one hand, he slid the other down her arm and across her front, pinching first one nipple, then the other, with a roughness that made her whimper and buck against his grasp. 

“You want an exile?” he growled as his hand drifted lower.

“Yes,” she panted, grinding against his hand. He undid her trousers and tugged them down, thrilled by her small cries.

If that's what she wanted, he'd give it to her. He quickly dropped his own trousers, then explored her with his fingers. She was as wet as her words had suggested. 

“You're sure?” he teased as he rubbed his cock roughly along the slit of her entrance.

She pushed back, trying to slip him into her. “Yes!” she panted when he shifted away. Frustration made her fight him, and he pressed harder against her wrists. “ _Fuck_ , Reyes, just... _fuck me_!”

Wordlessly, he nudged her feet wider and pulled her hips back, making her back arch while he kept her wrists pinned to the door. She panted in anticipation, growling his name when he waited a second too long for her liking, then screaming when he drove into her and sheathed himself in her hot center.

“Shhh,” he admonished her, covering her mouth as he pulled out and then thrust into her again. “Unless you want everyone to know an exile is ravishing the Pathfinder...and that she's enjoying it.”

She sobbed behind his hand, torn between her usual desire for discretion and her constant desire for rough sex. He pumped his hips against her, doing his best to satisfy the latter while breaking her of the former.

Her body tensed with a coming orgasm faster than he'd thought it would, and he growled dirty threats into her ear to speed her on her way. Fucking the Pathfinder against the door of her own quarters on the Nexus had him fighting to hold back his own climax, and he liked for her to come first. 

Her screams fell into his palm against her mouth, muffled but loud enough to encourage him to peak as well. When they were both finished he released her, catching himself against the door when she slumped. “Easy, _mi reina_ ,” he breathed as he bent over to scoop her up and carry her deeper into her quarters. She laughed and went limp in his arms, euphoric and reaching up to cup his cheek as he gently set her down on the bed. 

“That was just the beginning, right?” she asked as he flopped down alongside her. Stars, the woman has stamina. “I mean...we could go make new memories on the Nexus...if you wanted.”

And just like that, without calling attention to his earlier hang-up, she'd proposed a way to fix it. He adored her for it because if there was any way for him to reconcile past and present it would be by bridging the gap with his love for her.

Cupping her face in his palm, he turned her toward him and pulled her into a kiss. When she threw her leg over his hip and used it to drag him closer, he shifted his hand to clasp the back of her head and hold her close. It was only when she tried to mount him that he resisted her, moving his hand to her throat and pushing to force her onto her back. 

She whimpered and writhed, trying to kiss him again as he propped himself on an elbow to look down at her. The Nexus had waited for months for a Pathfinder to appear and show them the way...and here he had one, all to himself. That idea was enough for him to shift his weight onto her, allowing her to kiss him as he ran a hand over her curves.

Her pulled back when he felt his cock stirring, almost ready for round two, but he wanted to make some of those new memories somewhere other than her quarters. “So where do people go to drink these days?”

***

Thumping music drew them in as they approached The Vortex. He tried to remember what the room had been used for before; probably an office, given the number of wheelie chairs still scattered around, but it was probably neither important nor helpful to try remembering. 

The fact that she'd already been fucked seemed to have been lost on Ryder. Her stride had shifted from purposeful to seductive the minute the music had hit her and her hips took on an extra sway. After looking back at him with a confident grin, she'd stalked to the bar with a sexy surety that had every eye on her, which only doubled the pleasure he took in trapping her against the bar and grinding up behind her. 

He caught her eyes in the mirror backing the display of liquor and smirked at the way her lip curled in challenge. He'd get away with it this round but pay for it later. The hand that dipped behind her to grab his cock promised it.

She ordered a double of whiskey for each of them, raising hers above her head as she shimmied through the crowd toward an open pair of stools tucked in between the bar and the distillers, the candle between them providing more light than the dim overhead illumination of the bar. With a wild grin, she tossed her drink back, down in one as she perched on the stool with legs spread, pulling him in between them. He downed his as well, enjoying the burn of the alcohol and the feeling of her thighs alongside his hips.

She grasped a handful of his hair, rougher than she usually was, lighting his blood on fire. “Let's forget everything,” she breathed into his ear. “Let's just be Laz and Reyes, free to enjoy a night out like regular people.”

“Your wish is my command,” he purred, gripping both cheeks of her ass to pull her closer as he nibbled at her neck. She made a strangled noise. “ _Fuck_ Reyes, do you want me to ride you right here? Let's dance a bit, first.”

Smirking, Reyes pulled her off the stool and spun her before pulling her against him. The music was slow and dirty, so that's how he moved against her. They lost themselves in the deep throb of the bass, the winding melody. Both of them had left their jackets in her apartment, leaving him in a fitted black tee and her in a low-necked charcoal grey tank top. The extra skin presented opportunities. He enjoyed being tactile, using subtle touches in just the right places to heighten her arousal and stoke her already considerable lust.

It was particularly effective when they danced and she was already being driven wild by the feeling of full body contact without sex. When she gripped him tighter he tipped her chin up and devoured her, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She allowed it with a moan of want. “Let's get out of here,” he murmured against her lips. Her smile was smoky as she stepped back and took him by the hand, practically dragging him out.

“Where to?” she asked when they were once more in the corridor. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was looking at him in a way that made it easier to forget the past and inspired ideas for the present. There were a few places that should provide the level of privacy she'd want for what he had planned…if they hadn’t been destroyed or repurposed.

He took the lead now, their hands still joined as he re-familiarized himself with the Nexus. There was where the bodies of security staff had been heaped as he’d made his way from the communal bunks in Hydroponics to the shuttle bay. He could wrap himself in the Charlatan and push it away, forcing the memories to wait for his next nightmare like he always did, or he could try to change the way he remembered the spot. Tugging on her hand, he trapped her against the wall and kissed her with all the urgency of a man trying to forget something. Despite her aversion to public affection, she allowed it, seeming to sense that he needed this to wipe the slate clean. Nexus citizens passed them but she didn't so much as hesitate; she poured all of herself into the moment and gave him what he sought from her lips. 

Another spot, one he could swear had been open to space except for a thin, leaking barrier the last time he'd passed. The Scourge had been visible through it, a virulent orange-black tangle that seemed to be a living thing reaching for the Nexus. He’d heard the story of the salarian who’d been lost when the Scourge had seemed to move, almost as if it was plucking him away. He’d had nightmares about it more than once and was even more aggressive with her here, needing to be sure that the wall was there, that she was real, that the Scourge was a distant threat. Again she ignored the whispers of passersby, surrendering to him, although her cheeks were flushed when he stepped away. 

In a long corridor that he'd last seen barricaded by desks and debris, he just gripped her hand tighter. She shook him loose, only to slip her arm around his waist and pull him closer. She didn't say anything, just provided the physical support he craved but had never communicated needing. He wasn’t sure how he'd gotten so lucky with her, but he felt like they were facing life together, balanced in their support for one another. He knew what it cost her emotionally to be physically affectionate in public and yet here she was, the Pathfinder, on the Nexus, her arm freely slung around the hips of an exile. Touched, he draped his arm over her shoulders and briefly squeezed her close in thanks.

Finally they reached the nondescript door he thought he'd remembered. It resisted him but opened at her command. It had been a closet when he was here last and it still was. She didn't question him when he glanced to see if the corridor was clear and nudged her inside, just yielded to the demands of his fingers twining in her hair and pulling her head back as his body trapped hers against the wall. 

Her throat was bared with a whimper that made him growl with need. He’d hidden here, briefly, on his way to the hangar as shouting rebels passed. Morda’s warband had gone by shortly after, and he'd slipped out to the shuttle hangar when they were gone. In the meantime he'd waited, trying to control his breathing and hoping nobody would think to look in an unremarkable closet. 

Ryder was the one panting now, in lust rather than fear, and he focused on this moment. The feeling of her curves under his hands as he lifted her top off, the scent of her body as he kissed his way down and knelt to pull her trousers down, the taste of her pussy as he laved it with his tongue. After a few more licks he guided her left leg over his shoulder so that he could delve deeper and draw more sighing moans from her. She gripped his hair when he spread her wider with his fingers, tracing his tongue along her lower lips and around her clit. The past faded until she was all there was.

“Reyes, fuck me,” she moaned. He glanced up, unable to see her in the darkness and swapping his thumb in for his tongue on her sex. “You haven’t come yet, have you?”

She tugged him upward by the hair impatiently. “ _No_ , but I want you to _fuck me_.” She kissed him, heedless of the fact that his lips were still covered in her juices. “As nice as that is, you already teased me enough at the bar,” she growled against his lips, undoing his belt and trousers with a practiced hand and shifting them down. He smirked, enjoying her assertiveness as she made a little hop to wrap her legs around his waist. 

He guided himself into her pussy carefully, then took a moment to position her more firmly against the wall. It was probably a good thing she was so eager because this was not a position they could hold for long. With that in mind, he set a punishing pace as he thrust into her, one that would bring them both to completion quickly. She didn’t quite manage to stifle her cry of pleasure against his shoulder, making him snicker and then snarl when she bit him. 

Grunting with pain and effort, he bit her back, eliciting a startled yelp that was swiftly followed by a groan as her body tightened. _A little more…_

It was all he could do not to come with her when her inner walls clenched around him. She usually preferred to swallow his release when they found themselves in locations like this, where cleanup was inconvenient. He let her down as soon as her thighs loosened and barely got his cock into her mouth in time, fisting a hand in her hair to hold her nose against his belly and pour himself down her throat. Her fingers held his ass tightly enough that he was pretty sure he’d have the half-moon marks of her nails indented in each cheek, which only drove his pleasure higher. He liked being marked by her as much as he did marking her, even if nobody else would see it. 

She smoothly found her feet when he released her, and they didn’t say anything as they dressed quickly. “SAM, anyone in the hallway?” Ryder asked.

“Not for the moment, although someone is approaching from the intersecting corridor. If you move quickly, you can be out before they enter this corridor.” 

They darted out of the closet. Neither was willing to risk being stuck if traffic increased, or if the person who stored things in it came looking for something. Reyes had a flashback to Sloane’s party as he took her hand and pulled her into a run. She must have remembered as well because she laughed as she followed him. 

They ran straight into Addison at the intersection. 

Ryder’s face was priceless as she tried to look innocent and Reyes couldn’t help laughing. She’d have done better with her usual boredly casual look if she didn’t want to seem suspicious. Addison looked at him blankly, which just made him laugh harder, leaning back against the wall. “Ryder...and Vidal, was it? You were at the negotiations.” Addison glanced between the two of them with narrowed eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“Inside joke,” Ryder snapped, dragging Reyes around the colonial director, who rolled her eyes and scoffed in disgust before continuing on her way. 

Reyes pulled his lover to him and kissed her temple. “Did you mean for that to be a pun?” he asked. She frowned. “ _Inside_ joke?” he purred suggestively. Ryder slapped a hand to her face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, _Shena_.” Her attempts to scowl didn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

He liked her plan of making new memories on the Nexus so far...and they still had the rest of the night. And of course, when they were done, he'd see about bringing some more of his people back to see what had finally been accomplished.


	14. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes and Ryder meet Scott and Cora for a double date to share some important news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILERS**   
> If you haven't read [Pocket Aces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553570/) through chapter 5, this contains spoilers. 
> 
> Written for the Reyes Vidal Weekly Prompt (Double Date) and the Mass Effect Writer Circle drunk Saturday, so there is wine-influenced writing and minimal editing. Apologies for errors.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ryder asked for the dozenth time. Reyes sighed. He was tired of the twins’ constant feuding after she'd been shot on Kadara and had arranged with Cora for the four of them to have dinner together. He didn’t particularly like Cora, but she was Ryder’s official second for Pathfinder business and based on a few observations he’d made in the aftermath of Mantis’ assassination attempt, there was a bit more between Scott and Cora than simple friendship. 

“Would you rather we simply sent them an invitation to the wedding?” Reyes pointed out dryly, since his usual response that it would be fine was clearly not working. It had been a month and a half since _he’d_ been shot in a failed attempt at capture and since Ryder had, in her own endearingly awkward way, proposed they get married in order to take advantage of spousal privilege in the event that the Initiative ever tried to get one of them to testify against the other. As far as getting shot went, neither of them were having a good time of it this year. 

Ryder shuddered. “No. That would be...disastrous.”

Slipping an arm around her waist and tugging her close enough to plant a kiss on her temple, Reyes said, “So. We’ll sit down to dinner like civilized people and figure something out. Unless you don’t want Scott and Cora to be at the wedding?” He knew she would; as much as the two of them fought, her twin was the only family Laz had left and she fought fiercely for him in the event that anyone stood against him. Cora, as her second, was needed to provide a witness that even Tann couldn’t discredit.

Predictably, Ryder scowled. “He’ll be there, the little shit. And so will Cora.” Reyes said nothing, only nodding as they entered the new asari-angara fusion restaurant that had opened in Kadara Port. 

Cora and Scott were already seated and sipping drinks. “Nice of you to join us,” Scott quipped sharply. Reyes felt Laz’ muscles tighten as she bristled, and he squeezed her. “Play nice,” he whispered. She smiled, and it was the new smile she’d learned while she’d been acting the Charlatan - cold, emotionless, dangerous. It still turned him on, but it wasn’t what was needed nor did he want to encourage it. He pinched her hip, arching an eyebrow when she glared at him and holding her gaze until she rolled her eyes and smiled a little more naturally. 

“Scott, Cora, sorry we’re late,” Laz offered between gritted teeth. Cora elbowed Scott as he opened his mouth. “Of course. How’s that gunshot wound, Vidal?” she asked politely. Reyes nudged Laz to sit in the chairs opposite the other couple. Neither of them would be happy with their backs facing the room while the other two sat in the booth seat against the wall, but they had arrived late. 

Reyes eased himself into his chair. “Healing,” he said. “But Laz made coming back from the dead look so easy, I thought I’d try it.” 

Laz snorted but didn’t immediately reply, and when Reyes glanced at her she was looking up and to the left. “SAM says, it will go easier on you next time if you contact me directly,” she smirked. Making a face of mock horror, Reyes replied, “Cheeky AI. If I have my way, there won’t be a next time getting shot. For either of us.” Taking Laz’ hand, he gave her a stern look that she avoided. “No promises,” she murmured, focusing on her menu. The arrival of the angaran waiter saved her from his rebuke as she turned to order a neat whiskey, and he held up two fingers to indicate he’d have the same. 

Scott leaned forward as the waiter went to fill their drink order. “Cora said that you two have news?” 

As brave as she was facing kett, Outcasts, Director Tann, or assassins, Laz paled slightly and tensed. Reyes dropped an arm behind her chair and rubbed her neck to settle her. “We’re getting married,” he announced in the most neutral voice he could manage, knowing that the words alone had the potential to set Scott off. 

The younger Ryder twin blinked, eyes darting between the two of them, and Cora closed her eyes and sighed as she rubbed her forehead. “Lazuli,” Scott said in a warning tone. “This had better not be another one of your pranks.” 

Laz’ turquoise eyes flashed as she glared across the table. “It’s not. I love him. He loves me. We take care of each other. More than Alec ever took care of us,” she snapped. Reyes turned his rub into a warning squeeze, and she flinched slightly. Across from them, Cora’s hand darted out of view beneath the table and Scott’s angry retort cut off in a strangled grunt. 

“Let’s leave the past in the past,” Cora suggested. “Vidal, Pathfinder, congratulations. May this be a new start for us all.” She shot a sharp glance at Scott, who appeared to be rubbing his thigh. 

Timely as ever, the waiter reappeared with two whiskeys. “Are you ready to order?” he asked. “House special,” Reyes said, not caring what it was. Between his time on Omega and his extended friendship with Keema, he’d developed an appreciation for the flavors of both asari and angaran cuisine and wasn’t inclined to be picky. The rest of the table put their requests in, and then they were all back to staring at one another. Cora elbowed Scott again. 

“I...congratulations, sis,” he said, slumping. “Reyes...you know the Ryders look out for each other, right?” The two men looked at each other for a long, testosterone-laden moment, and Reyes remembered Scott’s outrage when he’d discovered that Reyes was the Charlatan - and what that meant for Laz and her team. He nodded solemnly to his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “I’m making changes,” he promised. “Stepping back from my…other role.” 

It was Laz’ turn to comfort him; she knew how difficult he’d been finding it to turn over more control of the Collective to Keema. Cora nodded approvingly, and Scott’s eyebrows flashed upward. “A toast then,” his fiancée’s brother offered after looking between the two of them, raising his glass. Everyone else at the table followed suit automatically. “To Reyes, the only man who could convince my sister that marriage is a thing, and to Laz, likely the only person who could tame this wily bastard.”

Reyes and Laz both chuckled before downing their glasses, acknowledging the truth of Scott’s words as their eyes met. Both laughed even harder as they thought about it, and Laz leaned in for a kiss.

“Unbelievable,” Scott muttered. “Lazuli showing affection. In public, no less. Reyes, I don’t know how you - no, I don’t want to know,” he changed course as Reyes and Laz broke their kiss to grin at him suggestively. Cora looked at the ceiling, and Scott shuddered slightly.

 _This waiter is getting an extra big tip_ , Reyes thought as their food arrived at just the right moment to save them all.

***

Ryder was giggly when they got home later, as much from relief as from whiskey. “That went better than I expected,” she admitted as they hung up their jackets in the apartment they shared in Collective HQ. 

“Told you it would be fine,” Reyes ribbed her, knowing it would set her off. “Bastard,” she muttered, even as she bounced onto her toes for a kiss. He caught her jaw between thumb and forefinger, stopping her short. “Bastard?” he questioned. She tossed her head, trying to break free of him, but he held fast, splaying the rest of his fingers out to catch her and stepping into her space enough that she backed up against the door. “But still a handsome one, right?” he teased as she laughed, the tone of it telling him she was enjoying this. It had been a couple months now since he’d been well enough to dominate her, and by now they were both missing it.

She bit her lower lip. “Always,” she replied in a husky voice, her face softening as she regarded him with bright turquoise eyes. He kissed her, still in disbelief that she was his, pressing into her to feel her body against him. The wound in his left flank still pained him slightly, but the walk to the restaurant was the most exercise he’d gotten since he’d been shot and it felt good rather than tiring for the first time in awhile.

Taking a step back, he released Ryder. “Bedroom,” he ordered in a voice that wasn’t quite the Charlatan’s, but not entirely that of Reyes Vidal, either. Ryder obeyed with alacrity, darting away as he followed more slowly. She was already stripping when he got there. 

Nodding toward the bed, he told her to touch herself. She sat with knees spread, allowing him to watch as she stroked the sensitive spot between her legs. When he’d undressed himself, he went to her and knelt, putting his tongue to use in place of her fingers. She allowed it for a short time, collapsing back onto the bed with a groan, before gripping his hair. “Please,” she begged as she pulled her head up. He knew what she wanted, and climbed onto the bed with slow, predatory motions that made her lick her lips in anticipation.   
“You’re on top,” he growled into her ear, biting her throat lightly before laying back against the pillows. He was feeling better, but still not one-hundred percent. Fortunately, Ryder was happy to oblige. She straddled him, careful of the raw-looking wound in his side as she sank onto his cock. With a rock of her hips she got them started, tipping her head back as her hips ground against his. 

She snapped forward again when he pinched brown nipples between his fingers, pulling her down into a kiss as he swiveled his hips to match her rhythm. It was a slower pace than they usually achieved, more akin to lovemaking than fucking. Still, it was a nice change having Ryder in charge, the way her body blanketed his as she controlled their pace, the way she nipped him sharply from jaw to chest in her pleasure, the pure eagerness with which she rode him. 

When she climaxed, he held her in place, forcing all of the movement in her to center on where they joined. The shuddering clench of her brought him to his peak, and he kissed her deeply as they both spent themselves. 

She slipped off of him and tucked in at his side when they’d finished, whispering endearments. There was only one thing he could say that would encompass everything he felt as he thought about the fact that she would soon be his wife.

“ _Te amo_.”


End file.
